The Lighthouse Keeper
by Galadriell
Summary: 1870's. A lighthouse keeper is content with the solitary life he leads until a shipwreck washes ashore a remarkable young man. As the keeper cares for the man, his own will to start living again rejuvenates. AU, Non-Magic, Harry/Draco
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I am not J.K. Rowling. This story is merely my way of saluting her. I do not own any of these characters; I just manipulate their thoughts.

**Summary**: Harlequin, meet Harry. Set in the late 1870's, this is a story about a lighthouse keeper who is content with the solitary life he leads until a shipwreck washes ashore a remarkable young man. As the keeper cares for the young man, his will to start living again rejuvenates, sprouting from admiration to adoration to love.

Alternate Universe. Non-Magic. Slash. Harry/Draco.

**A/N:** I'm not good at writing in old English, so please bear with me. If you find any statements or phrases you think I should change, message me about it and I'll rewrite that part. Thanks. Dabbling in some very romantic stories. Enjoy!

* * *

The heat of the day was causing rivulets of haze to rise from the tall reeds. The warm breeze washed over soft hills, rolling the grass as it passed. Leaves rustled lethargically. The ocean was quiet, resting under the warm sun. The water pushed against the cobblestone beach. Sea gulls circled the sand and the shore. They flew higher and higher, stark white against the cloudless blue skies. They made their way up the cliff face, weaving seemingly random patterns as they climbed. And atop the cliff overlooking the ocean was the lighthouse. It stood tall amongst the rest of the landscape. The brown stone tower was partially covered in creepers and moss, causing it to blend in with the natural beauty surrounding it. A massive set of double doors was fastened shut and the stairs leading up to the doors were cracking. Small windows dotted the entire expanse of the lighthouse, growing sparse as it wound up. Here, the tower widened into the most important part of the lighthouse - the light. The lamp resided in the rusty windowed tip of the lighthouse. The lamp helped provide direction to passing ships. The lamp helped sailors pull away before crashing into the cliff. The lamp helped guide and protect. The lamp needs a keeper. The lighthouse keeper.

He lived in the tower. There was nowhere else to go. The island was uninhabited by humans. Animals and plants grew aplenty, but people didn't. There was no civilization for eight hours by boat. In fact, the island was uncharted until ten years ago. The lighthouse keeper had been on the island for eight. He helped build the tower, with stone and mortar, sweat and blood. He was the only one that stayed behind. He was the only one who wanted the solitary life. He had lived on the island for so long that he had started to forget how he used to live anywhere else. The only contact he had with the rest of the world was during his monthly visits to the small fishing village many miles south of where he lived. All his rations were bought from the small port and the locals knew him as the lighthouse keeper. He rarely socialized. He just smiled. He smiled and handed out lists of what he needed for that month. It was mostly non-perishable food and maintenance equipment. On rare occasions, he would buy some clothes or bed covers, books and stationery, and curious memorabilia he found interesting at the roadside vendors'. But that was the extent of his life from the looks if it. For the locals, he was a recluse - the silent lighthouse keeper.

He did his job well. After the new seaport opened over ten years ago, a ship had yet to crash into the violent cliffs of the island the keeper lived on. The light shone nightly, softly flickering against the fog or beaming proudly against the clear black. It was always there, for the sailors to see. The lighthouse keeper made sure of it.

He slept during the days. He was not needed anywhere during daylight. So he slept it away. His work started at dusk and carried on until dawn. Nightly, he'd clean the windows and the grime that collected from the salt water. He would need to refill the lamp with kerosene every five hours. He trimmed the wick every three. He would need to wind the clockwork gears of the lens every two hours.

Immediately under the lantern room was the watch room, from where the lighthouse keeper stood watch and did his duties. A gallery stood outside the watch room. The lighthouse keeper liked to spend his time out on the gallery, where mists of salt sprayed and the warm winds blew in from the south. It washed him awake during calm nights. It helped him remember why he was there. He was content.

During the day he slept in his living quarters that were present at the base of the lighthouse. His home consisted of two floors that were each three meters tall. The first floor had his kitchen, dining room and restroom. The top floor had his bed and study. It was sparsely decorated, with no photographs adorning the walls and no curtains gracing the windows. His pantry was stocked with mildly tasting food such as beans and peas, cheese and biscuits, wine and water. His dining table seated two, but only ever met one. His bedroom looked out away from the ocean. It showed the golden reedy knolls and sparse trees. He looked out into the ocean at night and he went to sleep watching the lightly dusted land in the day.

His study was his most prized possession. It was the one way he wasn't driven insane by his solitude. His books, paper, and pen were his escape. At night, he would use his spare time to log his day and to dabble in fantasy. After all, if he enjoyed reading about the sad state of England in Dickens' words, he would enjoy writing about utopian lands in the middle of the ocean where fulfillment reigned. Stories helped him see the world while sitting on the rickety chair next to the fluttering light. The romantic era was pushing along at full force and even a simple lighthouse keeper in the middle of the Pacific could get caught up in it. A few years behind, but he was aware of the changes around the world. He was aware of the slow abolishment of slavery, erratic music of Beethoven, and Dr. John Snow's advancements in medicine. None of it pertained to him, but it was worldly knowledge that everyone needed to know about. And it would soon come in good use a fortnight after the lazy warm afternoon.

The seas are temperamental during the months of October and November. Perhaps it is because the waters are unsure of whether to stay warm or grow cold. The island started to experience heavy rains and high winds. The tropical hurricane promised to blow over in a matter of two nights and a day, but that was all the time needed for the Archangel to crash into the rocks on a nearby shoal.

As soon as the hurricane passed, the lighthouse keeper ventured out onto his island to survey the damage. And there it was, salvage from the wreck. The first wreck the keeper had ever chanced upon after years on the island. He weaved through the wreckage in horror. Clothes and utensils were strewn on the sand, tangled against weeds. Splintered wood washed ashore in torrents. But there were no bodies. Drenched papers and books were soaked to the spine as they lay limp on the beach. The keeper knelt on the stones, turning over the scraps. What looked like pieces of the mast floated on the water. But there were no bodies. The keeper sighed with relief. No bodies meant they had escaped. Which meant no unnecessary loss of life. Which meant the hurricane didn't do the damage it could have. Which meant clean up was going to be quick and painless. There were no bodies.

There it was, floating face down and half hidden under the wreckage. The body. Still. With a plunging stomach, the keeper lunged into the sea. Strong, experienced and adrenaline filled strokes pushed him through the choppy waters. He grabbed the body by the sleeve, flipping it over swiftly. He groaned with dread. The body was of a young man. A boy... The keeper wrapped his arms around the man's chest and pushed back towards the shore, kicking against the water with a trembling heart. He dragged the man against the stony beach, shivering as the cold wind blew into his drenched clothes. He dropped to his knees beside the man's chest. After placing his cheek next to the man's nose and finding no intake or expelling of breath, he thumped against the man's heart.

"Breathe."

He pinched the man's nose. The man stayed still, lips blue and face pale. He pushed into the man's ribs, trying to break through them so he could reach the lungs.

"Breathe."

Blood was pouring out of the side of the man's head, soaking into the sand. The keeper pulled off his coat, bunching it and stuffing it beside the man's crusted blond hair. He continued pumping the man's chest. He felt it crack and give way. He pushed in with fervor now, holding the man's nose every fifth pump, trying to force him to –

"Breathe."

The keeper heard soft gurgling in the man's throat. He stopped crushing the lungs, resting his head against the man's nose again. Nothing. He clamped the man's nose and pushed his mouth open, exhaling forcefully into the man's throat. The keeper came up for air, inhaling sharply and pushing it out into the man's lungs again.

"Breathe."

The man coughed weakly, sputtering blood and salt water.

"Breathe."

The man inhaled heavily, a grimace lining his brow as the air burned.

"Breathe."

The man nodded, trying to do as he was told. He quelled his urge to cough because his oxygen starved brain wanted him to inhale, not exhale.

"Breathe."

"Yes."

* * *

The keeper kept an eye on the man lying prone on his couch as he worked in his kitchen to sterilize his first aid equipment. The man wasn't waking up. The keeper had already tried smelling salts. Now all he could think of doing was stripping the man out of his sea-crusted clothes and donning a pair of thick flannel pajamas on him. The gash on the man's forehead was deep. The bone was visible from the torn skin. His chest was bruised, but it was bound to heal without much prompt. His right wrist seemed to be fractured at two spots. The man had the palest skin the keeper had seen, and that worried him. Sailors needed to have tanned skin. Pale skin meant heavy loss of blood. And the only place the man could have lost blood from was his head. Or internally. That thought irked the keeper to no end.

The keeper set aside the needle and thread, washing his hands with searing hot water. He was hoping to wash his trepidation away with the dirt. He wiped his hands on the towel, balancing his scotch on top of the tray. He settled on the floor, beside the man's head. He soaked his gauze with alcohol and gently wiped the cut clean. The man didn't even flinch. The keeper placed two fingers against the man's neck. The pulse was still there, fluttering against the keeper's fingers. Satisfied, the keeper threaded the needle swiftly. He poised on top of the man's gaping wound, his fingers shaking. He gulped down his nerves, pulling his hand away. He closed his eyes, steeling himself. He let out a long breath of air, feeling his tension leaving him. His trembling fingers started to steady themselves. He positioned the needle against the man's bruised flesh again. He allowed himself a quick glance at the man's closed eyes.

"Sorry."

And with that, he set about sewing the man up. He worked quickly, trying to place neat stitches but failing. He finished after ten stitches, groaning at the shoddy job he did. He hoped to god that he hadn't just scarred the man for life as he bandaged the ugly cut. At least the blood wasn't seeping anymore. Next, he splinted the man's wrist. It was difficult to wrap the strips of cloth around the limp wrist because the man was unconscious. The keeper needed to feel the wrist for himself, trying to decide if he'd set the bones right. He groaned again when he saw the wedding band on the man's finger. To think of the agony the wife was going to go through when she finds out that get husband's ship had been destroyed was causing the keeper to pace. He wished the man would wake up.

The keeper felt sleep tugging at him. It was already noon. He needed his rest. He sighed, sinking into an armchair. He was asleep in a matter of seconds.

Seemed like he had just closed his eyes when he wrenched awake. He roved his eyes around the room, trying to remember where he was. He jumped up when he found grey eyes staring at him.

"Hello," he said louder than he had expected to.

The grey eyes blinked, frowning. The keeper held still, unsure. The eyes closed lightly, then opened. They closed again, held shut longer than before. When the eyes opened again, the keeper gasped at the terror in them.

"What is it?" he asked softly.

The eyes widened and a strangled cry escaped the man's throat. He scrambled up, crying out again as he placed weight on his wrist. The keeper was by his side now, holding the struggling man steady on the couch.

"You're safe. It's alright," the keeper said rapidly, trying to appease the man.

"It's not! I can't see!" the man gasped, trying not to hyperventilate.

"What?" the keeper asked, his grip tightening around the shivering man.

"I can't see," the man sobbed, fainting into the keeper's arms.

"No, no, no. Don't sleep," the keeper muttered, shaking the man.

The man whimpered awake, keeping his eyes shut. He wasn't struggling anymore, having gone into shock. The keeper knelt down at eye level, watching the pallid man flush slightly. At least his color was returning, albeit from pain.

"Open your eyes," the keeper said firmly.

The man shook his head but opened them anyway. They were dilated and unfocused. The keeper moved his hand in front of the man's face, but got no reaction.

"You could see before?" the keeper asked.

The man nodded, tears falling onto his high, aristocratic cheekbones.

"Your name?"

The man stared at the keeper blankly. The silent and unseeing gaze was unnerving the keeper. He needed to know that the man has no lapse in memory.

"Your name, lad," the keeper repeated more firmly.

The man was silent. The keeper gently touched the man's bandaged head. The man didn't flinch away.

"Are you hurting?"

Silence. Tears were flowing in torrents now.

"Your head? Wrist? How's your chest?" the keeper asked desperately, trying to get a response from the man.

Silence. The man was starting to sag. The keeper jerked him awake again.

"Please, you can't sleep. Your head... Just tell me your name," the keeper said desperately.

"What's yours?" the man asked slowly.

"I - I'll tell you if you tell me yours," the keeper said.

"That's a trick," the man said softly, smiling.

The keeper blinked at the smile. He quickly placed a hand against the man's cheek, swearing loudly when he felt the fever burning into his hand.

"And that's a bad word," the man remarked. "I can't see..."

"What's your name? Where are you from? Where were you going? Are you in pain? Tell me something!"

"Too many questions," the man said, shaking his head reproachfully.

"One question then. Are you in pain?" the keeper asked deliberately.

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Everywhere."

The keeper sighed. "I can't let you sleep, okay?" The man nodded solemnly, falling asleep in the keeper's hands. The keeper shook him awake again. "I said don't sleep."

"Yes, you did."

This was going to be a long night. "Do you know where you were going?" the keeper asked, checking the man's splinted wrist to see if it had unraveled during the man's struggles.

"Canada... British Columbia. Work."

"Good, you remember!" the keeper exclaimed. British Columbia was three days journey to the northeast from the island.

"Where am I?"

"Near Canada."

"Good."

"Now will you tell me your name?"

"I thought I did."

"You didn't."

"It's Draco."

"My name is Harry."

"My head hurts."

"I know."

"I can't see."

"I know."

"I'm not allowed to sleep?"

"No."

"What should I do?"

Harry smiled morosely. "Are you hungry?"

"No. I feel sick."

"I know. Some soup will make you feel better."

Draco sat silently, tapping the fingers of his free hand on his knee. "Why can't I see?" he mused, closing his eyes. "I was fine... Until... Oh."

"Until the hurricane?" Harry asked.

"Yes, the rain."

"If it's any comfort to you, your shipmates didn't wash up on shore. I imagine it is because they escaped."

"Yes, they did," Draco said softly.

"Why didn't you?" Harry asked.

"I - I needed to - they - I -"

"It doesn't matter," Harry interrupted quickly, seeing Draco get agitated.

"It doesn't matter," Draco repeated.

"I am going to boil the broth. You stay," Harry said, letting go of Draco and standing up.

"I'll stay."

Harry watched the young blind man for a beat longer before walking into his kitchen. He warmed some water, soaking a clean piece of cloth with it. The man simply sat, slouched with his broken wrist cradled against his chest.

"Sit back," Harry said. Draco jumped, looking around wildly. Harry touched Draco's shoulder lightly. "I'm here," he added. "Sit back."

Draco nodded, sitting back against the sofa with his eyes squeezed shut. Harry placed the lukewarm cloth into Draco's hand. "I'll be in the kitchen," he said. Draco nodded again, clenching his fingers around the cloth.

Harry strode back into his kitchen, quickly filling his pot with chicken and vegetable broth. He worked the fire to make it burn as brightly as he could. He also poured out two glasses of scotch, downing his in one gulp. He set out a bowl and a spoon on the tray. "Are you alright?" he called out, stirring the soup with his ladle. He was answered with silence. He sighed, dropping the ladle with an impatient clang. His guest seemed to be quite taken to sleeping. He walked out into the living room with the scotch.

"Oh hell," he swore.

Draco had slid sideways on the couch, clutching his ribs with agony written all over his face. Harry ran up, placing the glass on the table and kneeling down beside Draco. He heard Draco's labored breathing. It was fast and shallow. "Just stay calm," Harry said, rubbing Draco shuddering back to relieve some of his pain.

"I can't breathe," Draco gasped, coughing.

"Breathe with me," Harry said, terrified at the sight of Draco's shaking body. "Through the mouth," he said. "In and out. In and out. Breathe," he kept repeating, urging Draco to follow. At first, Draco was too far gone to know what Harry was talking about. His breath rattled in his chest as he tried to drag in as much air as he could. His panic caused him to chock. Harry thumped Draco's back as he tried to get him to exhale. It took another five minutes for Draco to control his breathing. He winced each time he took a breath, but he was able inhale without suffocating in his own chest. He coughed, pushing off the sofa and sitting upright. Harry watched Draco regain his composure, sniffing back his tears and taking in gasping breaths. Harry fidgeted, unsure of what to do. He heard the sizzling of the soup boiling over onto the stove. "Oh, the soup," Harry exclaimed, stumbling up.

"No," Draco wheezed, throwing his hand out wildly. He connected with Harry's arm and pulled him back down forcefully. "Don't go," he said, coughing.

"I won't be long," Harry said, reassuringly. Draco shook his head vehemently and dug his fingers into Harry's arm. Harry sighed. "The soup..." he tried again.

"I don't want soup," Draco said firmly.

"Then at least let me take it off of the stove," Harry explained, wrenching his arm out of Draco's grip and moving towards the kitchen.

"Don't go," Draco shouted in terror, feeling blindly in front of him. "I don't want soup. Don't go," he garbled, getting off of the couch and bumping into the low table in front of him. He sidestepped it widely, bumping into the armchair beside it. "Don't leave," he said helplessly, trying to find his way around the unfamiliar territory. Harry watched the man feel his way around his living room with growing awareness. Draco was blind for the first time and feeling utterly helpless.

"I'm not leaving," Harry said over Draco's rambling. Draco froze, trying to locate Harry's voice. "I'm just going to the kitchen."

"I'll come," Draco said, moving towards Harry's voice. "I'll come," he repeated, running his fingers along the wall as he moved, holding out his broken hand in front of him.

"You shouldn't be moving," Harry said, reaching out a hand and grabbing Draco's. He led the blind man into the kitchen.

"I'm fine," Draco insisted stubbornly, tightening his hold on Harry just in case the keeper decided to leave again. Harry noticed the increased pressure and sighed.

"Sit," Harry said, pushing Draco into the tall stool. Draco sat without a word of complaint, trying to follow Harry with his ears. Harry quickly put out the stove, pulling the pot away from the fire. "How are your ribs? I had to crack them to get you to breathe. They are going to ache for a few weeks."

"Fine," Draco muttered, running his hands down the stone counter. "Where am I?"

"I haven't decided on a name yet," Harry said, smiling slightly. "Just a small island. I'm the lighthouse keeper."

"You haven't decided on a name… "

"No." They lapsed into silence. Harry figured it was because of Draco's delirious mind. The man simply stared at the counter, running his fingers down it with a blank expression on his face. Harry poured the soup into the awaiting bowl and plunked it in front of Draco, pushing the spoon into Draco's free hand. "Drink."

"I don't want soup," Draco said faintly.

"Drink it," Harry said sternly.

"_No_. I feel sick."

"You feel sick because you haven't eaten anything for a day."

Draco pursed his lips and closed his eyes, taking in calming breaths. "I don't want to eat," he said in a measured tone.

Harry scrutinized Draco through narrowed eyes, drumming his fingers on the counter and wondering whether he should force-feed the man. Deciding against it, he glanced at the clock on the wall. Two hours until sun down, which meant an hour until he needed to be in the service room. "Don't eat then. I have to get to work in an hour. You aren't to sleep until I'm done. Understand?"

"Yes," Draco muttered.

"I _will_ wake you up if I find you asleep."

"Yes."

"What do you want to do while I'm working?"

Draco sat silently. Harry supposed there wasn't much he _could_ do. The man was blind. Harry knew that sleep was what the man needed, but sleep was one thing Harry was afraid of letting Draco do. He was afraid of what would happen if Draco didn't wake up. He watched Draco for a few minutes, silently weighing his options. He couldn't risk moving him yet. The waters were too choppy for him to set sail for the seaport. He didn't know how long the heavy weather would last. He would need to accommodate the young man in his lighthouse until then. Or until help arrived, searching for Draco. Either way, there was nowhere else for Draco to go.

"Where are my clothes?" Draco asked suddenly, feeling the thick flannel with his hands.

"In the wash. Most of it will have to go. It was spoiled in the water and with blood."

"Hmm… Father bought it for me," Draco said thoughtfully. Harry wondered if Draco was aware that he was saying all this out loud. Draco laughed humorlessly. "He's going to be less than pleased."

"You're alive. I'm sure he'd be ecstatic," Harry said.

"Mother would be…" Draco murmured.

"And your wife," Harry added.

"Astoria… She would be too."

"Where are you from?" Harry asked, pouring himself some soup and breaking the bread.

"England."

"Where in England?" Harry asked, rolling his eyes.

"London."

"Hmm…"

"What's your name?" Draco asked, frowning towards Harry's voice.

"You've forgotten already? It's Harry. Harry Potter."

"Right. Mr. Potter."

"Right," Harry said, smiling. It had been a long time since anyone had called him Mr. Potter. For over ten years, it had either been Harry or lighthouse keeper.

"I was on a ship," Draco said. Harry saw him trying to remember what had happened. "And something – the rain was too hard. I couldn't see. I needed to – they wouldn't – the ship hit something. And then – I – I think I fell out. I don't remember anything after that."

"I figured as much," Harry said. "The hurricane was not kind to your ship."

"The last thing I saw was – water… There was too much water," Draco said quietly.

"We – we should talk about something else," Harry said, watching Draco's expression turn from blank to fear in a matter of seconds.

"Yes, let's," Draco said quickly.

"What do you do?" Harry asked. Work was always a neutral topic for most men.

"Nothing," Draco muttered.

Harry heard the slight bitterness in the words, but he didn't comment on them. "So why are you going to Canada?"

"Father's business. I needed to – it was supposed to be a change from home. He needed help running the business here and I agreed to come out."

"What business?"

"Fur."

"Must mean you're rich," Harry said, smiling slyly.

Draco sensed Harry's glib smile, allowing his lips to twitch for an instant. "I am. Mostly my fa –" He broke off, gasping in pain. Harry was by his side in a second, holding him up before he fell backwards.

"What?"

"My eyes," Draco groaned through gritted teeth.

"Keep them closed," Harry urged. Draco nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. "Is it burning?" Harry asked. Draco shook his head, feeling calm wash over him as his eyes shut.

"Light," he breathed out, pinching the bridge of his nose to get rid of the splitting headache that was forming in between his brows.

Harry blinked. "You can't see…"

"I saw light," Draco mumbled, willing the pain to soften.

"You _can_ see?"

"I didn't see anything. Just white light," Draco said again.

"Um…"

"It's nothing," Draco said, gently touching his bandaged head.

"If you say so," Harry murmured thoughtfully.

"How long have you lived here?" Draco asked, eager to get his mind off of the migraine.

"Nine, ten years…"

"Hmm… Is it a big village?"

"Just me."

"What?"

"It's just me."

"Just you?"

"Yes."

"In this whole island?"

"Yes."

Draco frowned, his eyes still closed. "Why?"

"No answer to why. I like it here, so I'm here."

"It's that simple?"

"Why shouldn't it be?"

"Oh, that means you have no family, doesn't it?"

Harry stared at the blind man in disbelief. "How did you know?"

"It's never simple with family," Draco said, idly picking up the spoon next to his hand and dipping it into the bowl.

"You speak from experience?"

Draco didn't deign to answer, sipping on his warm soup elegantly. Harry noticed the aristocracy in Draco's actions now that the man was regaining control over his mind and emotions. The terrified young boy was gone and replaced with a straight-backed gentleman exchanging words. Harry marveled at the change, unsure of whether that was a healthy sign or not. If he had suddenly discovered that he was blind, he would be throwing fits and rebellious rants against his own body. Yet here was Draco, remaining as calm as he could while eating supper.

Harry kept talking, hoping to distract Draco long enough to make him finish his broth. "No, I have no family. I helped build this lighthouse and I wanted to run it. They let me. So here I am," Harry said.

"For ten years. Isn't that a long while?"

"A very long while."

"You aren't tired of it?"

"No. I like it."

"I would get tired of it after a day. No entertainment, no people, only work…"

"It's a pleasant change from before."

"Before?"

Harry found himself in uncharted territory. Problem with having no one to talk to for so long was that he let himself go, spilling out unwanted thoughts and memories. "It's different here," Harry said finally.

"Lonely."

"No. Real."

"Real… How old are you?"

"Thirty two next year."

"You sound so much older." Harry scoffed. Draco smiled at the sound, shaking his head. "No, I meant mature, not older."

"To you, I guess I _would_ seem old…" Harry said thoughtfully, finishing his own soup with a satisfied slurp.

Draco frowned through his smile. "Really? I'm twenty eight."

Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh… You seem so much younger."

"I suppose I am."

Harry got up from his stool, stretching lazily. "Do you always speak so candidly?"

"Yes."

"Thought it was your fever."

"That too."

"Think you can walk?"

"Yes."

"Up stairs?"

Draco bit his lip. "Y – yes."

"Up to the top of the lighthouse?"

"Oh…"

"I don't know what to do with you. I can't just leave you down here… If I help you, do you think you can walk up with me?"

"I can try."

"Do you want to try to open your eyes?"

"No," Draco said firmly.

"That's fine."

"When can I leave?"

Harry ran his fingers through his hair ponderously. "Not tonight. And the journey is going to take a whole day. My boat won't cut through the water right now. We'll wait until you are well enough. Maybe a few days. But I have provisions and clothes. You will be fine until then," he said.

Draco nodded. His spoon clattered on the bowl, causing him to jerk.

"You were hungry after all," Harry said, grinning as he picked up the bowl and spoon from Draco.

"I suppose…"

Harry cleaned out the dishes and placed them on the towel to dry. He wiped his hands and turned to face Draco. "Ready?" Draco nodded mutely, getting off of the stool. "Just hold onto my shoulder. I need to grab a few things before we can start up." Draco did as he was told, latching onto Harry. Harry grabbed a cup and a box of sugar cookies. He then led Draco towards the stairs. "Tell me if you're hurting," he said, glancing over his shoulder. Draco made a sound of acknowledgement. The stairs were wide and made of tough stone. They reached the second floor in thirty steps. "This is where the bed and library is," Harry informed, opening the door. They walked to Harry's small desk and he gathered all his writing material – books and pens. "You carry this," he said, tugging off the blanket from his bed and draping it over Draco's splinted hand. "There are about three hundred steps. Don't keep count."

Draco smiled faintly, dropping his head. "I won't," he said.

"I've tried," Harry explained, walking out of the second floor and back on the landing. They started their long trek. "I lost count after two hundred and fifty eight. I'm still too miffed to try again."

"Hmm…"

They walked in silence for five minutes, Draco holding strong despite the pounding headache and burning chest. That's when he felt a cough trying to rattle out of him. He tried to quell the urge, gulping down air. After ten more steps, he couldn't hold off any longer. "Sorry," he wheezed, letting go of Harry and coughing painfully in what he hoped was the opposite direction. He tasted the slight hint of blood against the back of his throat. He pushed down his nausea, not wanting to throw up what he'd just eaten. He composed himself as he felt his breath stabilize again. He reached out blindly to grab Harry again. Harry bit his lip in thought as he took Draco's trembling hand and placed it on his shoulder. They were barely fifty steps up and Draco was already out of breath. The next fifty would be fine, but the final half of the climb was something Harry was not looking forward to. Sure enough, as they ascended, Harry heard Draco's labored breathing grow louder and louder. Harry was mildly impressed at the lack of complaint. Then he grew anxious at the lack of complaint.

"How much pain are you in?" Harry asked.

Draco merely shook his head, trying to concentrate on breathing and not thinking. Thinking was causing him to hyperventilate. He needed to clear his mind and not think about all that had happened to him. That he was blind, that he was stranded, that he felt like he was about to die.

"Where are you from?" Draco asked.

"Surrey."

"You have lived there all your life, then?"

"Yes, until now."

"Not fond of people, are you?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't mind people. Just – not the ones I know."

"Well put," Draco mumbled darkly.

"You don't either?"

Draco was wondering why it was so easy to talk to this lighthouse keeper. Perhaps it was because Harry was an unknown. Draco did not know who Harry was. He may very well be an apparition of Draco's feverish mind. But what made him talk so bluntly was not just because he didn't know Harry. It was also because Harry didn't know him. Most people Draco had met during his tumultuous life had a preconceived notion of who Draco was – he was his father. But Harry had no idea. Draco wanted to keep it that way. Draco wanted to have a normal conversation with a normal man for once. Even if the normal conversation was caused by a terrible accident and the normal man may very well be a recluse who was nearing insanity.

"No, I don't either," Draco answered.

"Which is why you're moving to Canada."

Draco thought over it. No one knew him in Canada. Perhaps… "I would think so, yes," he said slowly.

"As long as you don't mind the cold," Harry commented.

"Nothing I can't work around."

Harry chuckled softly. Draco marveled at how youthful the laugh was. It was a stark contrast to how adult Harry sounded. "You can't work around the snow," Harry said in amusement.

Draco nodded to himself. He knew that. He knew enough about Canada to know that his father's hold on him would lessen tenfold if he moved there. He stifled a sigh. Malfoys don't sigh, he could almost hear his father saying. Draco's mind wound around that thought. Father wasn't there and Draco was his own person. He sighed loudly, smiling morosely at the relaxing motion of inhaling deeply and exhaling languidly. It felt so serene and cleansing. He vaguely wondered why Malfoys didn't sigh and made a mental note to sigh more often.

"Um…"

Draco snapped out of his delirious musings, opening his eyes out of reflex. He was greeted with more black. He blinked, trying to dislodge the black screen in front of his eyes. It wouldn't budge. He let out a frustrated groan, squeezing his eyes shut again. At least when his eyes were shut, he could pretend that there was a reason he couldn't see anything but black.

"Are you alright?"

Draco swallowed down the lump in his throat. "Yes," he rasped breathlessly. Harry didn't press further. And they climbed.

Soft light coursed through the windows as they ascended. Harry loved the sunsets and sunrises. It always meant the beginning and end of his day. It was a place between sleep and waking. The island would buzz with commotion during those times as the animals settled down for the night or woke up for the day. It was the utopia Harry so often wrote about – the perfect heaven. Harry felt Draco fingers pressing into him and he stopped. Draco sagged against the dusty stonewall, breathing in shallow gasps. They waited in silence for Draco to gain some strength. What would normally take Harry twenty minutes was already costing him the better part of an hour. And yet, Draco didn't complain. Harry saw the slick sheen of sweat on Draco's neck. "How's the fever?" he asked.

"I'll be fine once we get up there," Draco said, breathing in deeply and steeling himself as he shuffled away from the wall. His legs held up. "I'll be fine," he said.

Harry's face tinged with worry, but he didn't voice it. He guided Draco's hand over to his shoulder again, climbing the stairs slowly. A little over halfway up the tower, Harry felt Draco stumble over the step. He spun around, catching Draco before he fell flat on his face. Harry sat down heavily on the step as Draco fainted onto him. Harry sighed, lifting Draco off of him and leaning him against the wall. Harry sat beside the blond man, trying to catch his own breath. After a minute, he turned to Draco, shaking him awake. Draco jerked up with a yelp, throwing his hands out in front of him. "It's alright," Harry said tiredly from beside him.

Draco gulped loudly, nodding. "Right. Don't sleep," he said, more to himself.

"Yes, don't."

"How much further?"

"We're only halfway up."

Draco's stomach plunged. "I – I don't think I can," he said, blushing at how weak he was.

"One step at a time," Harry said vaguely. "I will try and keep your mind off of the pain," he added, getting up and grabbing Draco's arm to pull him upright. Draco let him, too uncomfortable and tired to argue. "What do you want to talk about?" Harry asked as they started up again.

"I don't know. I can't think."

"That's alright. I'll do the thinking then. I've been alone for so long, it's not difficult to do the thinking by myself."

Draco mused at the way Harry talked. So vague and random. Some of the things he said sounded almost poetic. "You are a romantic!" Draco exclaimed as realization struck him. Harry laughed and Draco felt the shoulder shake slightly. "But you are, aren't you? Music, art, theatre, books, and all?" Draco asked eagerly.

"A romantic? Hardly. I haven't heard classical music or seen theatre in years. Books… Yes, I enjoy a good book. But that is the extent of my 'romanticism'."

"But why else would you hide from the world? It is a romantic notion, to be alone with one's thoughts. I would venture a guess that you read… Poe? No, he is a bit too dark for you. And Elliot is much too real. Stevenson? Kindred spirits that you are. I am right, aren't I?"

Harry grinned up at the stairs as he heard Draco's excited rambling. "What do you prefer?" he asked, wanting to keep Draco talking.

"Austen."

Harry blinked at the abrupt reply. "No, you don't."

Draco blushed, hoping to the gods that Harry wasn't turning around to look at him. "What's wrong with that?"

"N – nothing," Harry stammered. "But – Austen? _You_? You struck me as a person who'd more likely read Doyle or Dumas. The adventure and mystery in them."

"I've had enough adventure and mystery to last me a lifetime."

"So you read Jane Austen…"

Draco was starting to get annoyed. Harry was reiterating the same point far too many times. He suspected that Harry was poking fun. "Have you ever _read_ Austen?" he asked huffily. He was met with silence. "Then I'm not surprised by your literary misunderstandings. Mansfield Park itself has enough complexity to easily spar with Sherlock Holmes. And the humor is advanced. At least the realistic views aren't shadowed by cheap gimmicks."

Harry scoffed. "What's so real about Edmund, Henry, and Thomas falling in love with the same caustic woman?" he muttered.

Draco opened his mouth to retort but went silent when he realized what Harry had just said. He ran the comment through his head, mouthing Harry's words. Then he laughed incredulously. "You _have_ read Mansfield Park?"

"I have time on my hands," Harry said, trying to justify his comment.

"What _do_ you read then?"

"All of them…"

"All?"

"I personally enjoy Mark Twain and Charles Dickens for their humor. Yes, Stevenson and I do seem like kindred spirits, don't we? My favorite Jane Austen novel would be Emma, just because of the obscenely large amounts of confusion and tongue in cheek in the book, almost like Shakespeare's comedies. And you're right, most of Poe is much too devastating for me to read. Sometimes, even Doyle seems a bit too melodramatic. My favorite novel is David Copperfield because it reminds me of how –" Harry broke off, realizing he was about to relay his pathetic life story to a complete stranger. "I – um… it's real. All of it seems so real in the story. It's my favorite." Harry's thoughts raced around his mind as he tried to figure out what he had wanted to say. He had wanted to say _everything_. He suppressed a shudder at his lack of self-control. He also realized that Draco hadn't said a word. "Haven't fallen asleep, have you?" he asked, trying to hide his embarrassment in petty humor.

Draco blinked blindly, a slow grin growing on his face. "Marvelous!" he said. "In fact, I think you're more of a romantic than I am!"

"Just because I read books doesn't make me an idealistic."

"But you don't just read books! You appreciate them!"

"I – well, yes, that's – reading is the same thing."

"No, it isn't. I've _read_ Les Miserables. I _appreciate_ Great Expectations."

"Les Miserables… Another good read."

"Perhaps you don't know the difference because you appreciate all of them," Draco reflected.

"Maybe."

"And if you appreciate all of them, you write."

Harry turned around to face Draco. "How do you know all of this?" he asked in disbelief.

"You _write_?" Draco asked, his eyes wide with wonder and his grin fixed on his face.

"How did you know?" Harry asked again, gazing at Draco for a moment longer before resuming his ascend.

"I – er, I – write."

"Oh. About what?"

"Nothing. Just thoughts I have. What do you write about?"

"A world Dickens would never think of writing. The ideal world."

"Like here?"

"Exactly."

Draco was starting to understand the appeal of this secluded island. No societies meant no norms. No norms meant simplicity. And simplicity meant bliss for this lighthouse keeper. Draco chuckled softly. "The prefect heaven, isn't it?"

Harry stumbled on the steps, reaching out to the wall to steady himself. Draco dropped his hand from Harry's shoulder, grabbing his upper arm and holding Harry upright. "Watch the step," Draco said, smiling impishly.

"R – right," Harry breathed. How did Draco know him so well? The perfect heaven… It was true. Every word out of Draco's mouth was true. It unnerved Harry to no end. How could this man know him so well?

"I wish I could see it," Draco said softly, his fingers brushing against the window they were next to. Harry watched Draco stare out blindly into the golden grass that was billowing in the cooling wind. Draco's grey eyes were open and unblinking, looking out into nothing. His hair was still matted with salt and blood. Harry imagined that Draco's hair was one of his prized assets. It was thick and platinum, utterly disheveled at the moment. He had a strong face, with an elegant nose and a tapered chin. His cheekbones were set high, giving him an outlandish appeal. His lips were pursed in frustration. The paleness lingered and Harry realized that the man was naturally so.

As suddenly as before, Draco gasped in pain, his fingers clamping painfully around Harry's arm. He swayed dangerously as he squeezed his eyes shut. He sank to the floor, dragging Harry down with him and cradling his head in his free arm.

"What is it?" Harry asked, trying to pry his sore arm from Draco's iron grip. Draco held on stubbornly. He was using Harry to ground himself against the splitting pain in his head that was threatening to explode. "What's wrong?" Harry asked again, worry seeping into his words.

"My head," Draco grunted through his gritted teeth. "Eyes…"

"The light again?"

Draco nodded curtly, hissing with pain as his temple throbbed at the slight motion.

"What should I do?" Harry asked, feeling as helpless as Draco.

"I don't know," Draco breathed, his words hitching as he tried to stop the pain in his head. Next thing he knew, he was enveloped in warm arms. He let out a slight yelp but didn't have the strength to struggle. He sat still, letting the warmth fill him. He heard vague words enter his head and he tried to focus on it. It said, "Don't think of the pain." Draco let the urgent voice tell him that a few more times before deciding to act on it. He relaxed into the arms, letting his head rest on Harry's shoulder. "Just – distract me," Draco muttered into Harry's neck.

Harry was already distracted himself by the proximity of Draco to him. He had never been this close to anyone in a long while. He hadn't let anyone come this close to him before. He didn't even know what prompted him to pull Draco against his chest. It was almost like protective instinct. Seeing Draco in pain was all the catalyst Harry needed. He had wrapped his arms around Draco's back, pulling him in. He was also uttering unconscious words to Draco. After a moment of stiffness, Draco had complied. And now Harry's spine tingled when he felt Draco's breath against his skin, asking to distract him from the pain.

"I – um… Right. Er – have you – Darwin! Have you read the Origin of Species by Charles Darwin?" Harry stammered, falling on a vague subject that he assumed Draco had no thoughts about.

"Yes, I have."

"Oh," Harry muttered, trying to compile his random thoughts into a comprehensible pile.

"We can still talk about it," Draco said weakly, his arms wrapping around Harry's narrow waist impulsively as he tried to hold on to his consciousness. Sleep was threatening to drag him down again and he knew that Harry didn't want him to sleep.

"O – okay," Harry stammered.

"You have read the sixth?"

"There's a sixth?"

"Yes. It –" Draco shuddered as his breath caught in his throat. He let it out slowly, just as Harry had instructed. "It explains more. He uses this term – evolution."

"What does it mean?"

"He says that – well, natural selection picks out the weak and the strong ones procreate. Which means the strong individuals are able to pass on their features that make them strong. He – he says this causes small nuances to occur in a population. N – not just imperfections. Over time – the population will change. Generations over time. The changing is called evolution. But – I really don't think I said that right…"

"No, no, that was fine. What do you think of it?"

"I don't know. It's all so – incomprehensible. I mean, to think that we are here because of a set of random coincidences is – it sounds preposterous."

"But the evidence he has gathered. I mean, he has spent _years_ of his life in research."

"That is the only reason why I am not completely doubtful of his words. The proof…"

"It's quite sad if you think about it. It is that one general law. The strongest survive and the weakest perish. Morbid."

"But true."

"Yet true."

They sat on the stairs in silence. Harry saw the sun dip down, causing long shadows to fall across the meadow. Draco's gasping had changed to silent breathing now. Harry marveled at how comfortable he was holding another man in his arms. He supposed he had been craving some human contact for years now, he just didn't know it. He decided to make a conscious effort from then on to talk to the locals at the seaport. However uncomfortable it was bound to be, he evidently needed the communication.

"Thank you."

Harry was wrenched out of his thoughts and he let go. Draco pulled away, trying to discreetly wipe the tears streaking his face. "Better?" Harry asked weakly.

"Yes," Draco said. "Maybe I should keep my eyes shut from now on."

"No!" Harry exclaimed. "You said you saw light. That must mean you can see something!"

"I feel like I'm about to die every time I _see_ something," Draco said sardonically.

Harry kept his eyes on Draco, looking for signs of pain. Besides the perpetual grimace on his brow, there wasn't any. "We don't have much further," he said, trying to encourage Draco. Draco nodded. Harry staggered up, pulling Draco along with him. This was turning out to be a longer climb than either of them had expected.

The rest of the journey was spent in silence for both men. The sun was rapidly setting and Harry needed to start the lamp. He couldn't move much faster because Draco wasn't quite willing to. So they ascended at a slow pace. Harry heaved a sigh of relief as he moved closer to the service room. "We're here," he said. Draco sagged visibly, his legs dragging more so than before. They finally reached the door and Harry threw it open jovially.

"Thank god," Draco breathed, coughing tiredly. Harry led Draco into large room. In the middle was the equipment – clockwork, kerosene basin, and wick reserve. The room opened out into the ocean. The gallery was visible from the windows that wound around the circular room. Harry led Draco to the large desk present in the service room.

"The chair is here," Harry said, grasping Draco's hand and placing it on the wooden chair. Draco sat down with a sigh, stretching his aching legs out in front of him as he lounged happily. "Don't sleep. I'll be back," Harry said. He grabbed the pitcher of water on his desk, pouring water into the glass he had brought up. "Drink."

Draco clutched the glass with both hands, gulping down the cool water frantically. Harry ran out the room and wound up the final steps to the lantern room. He quickly started the fire, striking the match and lighting the wick. He eyed the flame critically, quickly wiping the sooty lens with a cloth. He needed more kerosene. And he saw the fog rolling in, so he needed to change the depth of the lens. He ran back down the stairs, smiling to find Draco slouched on the desk, his elbows on the table and his chin resting on the intertwined fingers. Harry worked the chains in the middle of the room, quickly switching the lens. He grabbed the kerosene from the container, sprinting back up and pouring the fuel into the duct. The flame grew brighter. He spent a few minutes watching the fire, making sure it was solid and that the lens picked up the light. After he was sufficiently satisfied, he walked back down the stairs, feeling unburdened now that the lamp was lit. Draco was still sitting there nonchalantly, touching his head.

"It's stopped bleeding, if you're wondering," Harry said as he walked up to the desk strewn with paper and books.

"I guessed."

"I'm freed up for the next hour."

"What do you do in that hour?"

"I usually just read. Or go out into the gallery."

"The gallery…"

"Do you want to come?"

"Is it nearby?" Draco asked in trepidation.

"Yes. The door is to your right."

"Oh. Alright."

Harry guided Draco towards the door. As he opened it, he felt Draco stiffen beside him. The wind was strong that evening, whipping Harry's hair every which way. "There are railings here. You can hold onto them," he said loudly, hoping Draco could hear over the gust. Draco started to reach out with his splinted hand and he brushed his fingers against the rusty iron railing. The gallery was a meter wide and it circled the entire circumference of the lighthouse. Harry pulled Draco forward, making him grasp the railing tighter. Draco's heart plunged at the sound of the sea. The taste of salt against his lips was making him dizzy and he was having trouble stopping from feeling completely disoriented. Memories flashed through his mind rapidly. He was on the Archangel, then he felt the large drops of rain, then he saw the wave rising ominously around him, then he was thrown out to sea, then he watched the small boats floating away from him, then he felt himself suffocating. He struggled to breathe, but his throat was closing up. He was suffocating and underwater. He was alone. With a gut-wrenching sob he spun around, trying to get away. He connected with Harry's startled body and latched on for dear life.

Harry stumbled back as Draco threw himself at Harry. Draco's arms wound around Harry's neck and his head was buried against Harry's shoulder. Harry frowned, putting his arms around Draco's back softly. "It's just the sea," Harry said into Draco's ear. Draco shook his head, keeping his eyes averted. "You're safe up here. You're all the way up here," Harry said reassuringly.

"I can't," Draco said into Harry's coat.

Harry tightened his hold, squeezing Draco reassuringly. "That's fine. We'll go back inside," he said, letting go of Draco and gently easing the arms away from his neck. Draco nodded, his eyes clenched shut and his lips almost disappearing as he pursed them. Harry led Draco back into the service room, shutting the door soon after Draco walked in. "Better?" he asked, impulsively pushing a strand of mist soaked hair off of Draco's cheek. Draco jerked away, wiping his drenched face. Harry dropped his hand to his side, embarrassed at his callousness. Draco couldn't notice.

"Yes," Draco said, flushing. "I – sorry. I'm – this – it's not – so much has happened. I'm still – I didn't think I would be that affected by it."

"We'll try again later, then," Harry said, smiling at Draco's hesitant apology. From the sounds of it, Draco was not used to making apologies. He apparently didn't know _when_ to make them either. "There's nothing to be sorry about. Hardly your fault," he added, helping Draco back into the chair.

"Right," Draco said, attempting to convince himself.

"We'll just talk. I enjoy your company," Harry said, hoping to cheer Draco up.

Draco smiled sourly. "I'm glad someone does."

Harry raised his brows at the spontaneous comment, realizing that Draco hadn't meant to say it out loud. He decided to glaze over it, glancing down at the papers on the desk. His eye fell on Draco's wedding ring. He looked up at Draco's frowning face. "How long have you been married?" he asked softly.

Draco shifted in his seat as his thoughts scattered. He absently turned the ring on his finger with his thumb, out of habit. "Five years."

"How many children?"

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "None," he muttered.

Harry decided that the topic of family was probably not the best one to broach upon. "Sorry. Um… My etiquette isn't quite up to date," he apologized, fiddling with the book in front of him.

Draco looked up in surprise, dropping his hand on the table with a thud. "What?"

Harry blinked at Draco's off set gaze. "Nothing," he said quickly.

"Oh, no, I didn't – I mean, I wasn't thinking, sorry," Draco said quickly. "No, I don't have any children. Astoria isn't quite ready for them. I suppose I'm not either," he explained vaguely.

Harry didn't respond. He shuffled the papers on the desk thoughtfully. Draco drummed on the desk softly, biting his lip. "So, you have no family?"

Harry stopped his shuffling, his eyes downturned. Family. He supposed it wasn't a topic he wanted to talk about either. "Everyone has one, I suppose," he mumbled.

"But…" Draco said, waiting for Harry to continue.

"But not everyone wants one."

Draco had to hide his flinch at the matter-of-fact statement. Those were strong words and he had no idea what had triggered it. He tried to push further. "No," he said slowly, "everyone wants a family."

Harry weighed his words against his tongue. "I meant that not everyone wants the one they have," he said deliberately.

Draco's eyes widened with shock. "Surely you aren't speaking about your parents!" he said, his mouth running off. "Oh, I didn't – um… Sorry, it just –" he stammered, trying to recant what he'd blurted out.

"I never knew my parents," Harry said softly, interrupting Draco's faltering words. Draco went silent at this. "I didn't know them, but they were the most beautiful parents I could have had," Harry said. "My aunt and uncle were… something else entirely," he muttered.

"Oh," Draco said faintly.

"But yes, they _are_ my family."

"How did your parents…" Draco left it open-ended.

Harry looked up at Draco's concerned face. He was so used to lying about his parents' death. The lie was at the tip of his tongue. It was a lie that had been burned into his mind since he was old enough to understand what death was. It was a lie that caused him to hate his parents for the better part of his childhood. It was a lie he didn't want to tell. "Murdered."

Draco gasped, partially out of horror and partially out of the callous way Harry had said it.

"They were murdered when I was two. They were protecting me. Sacrifice," Harry said firmly, looking up at Draco's horrorstruck face. Harry sighed, shaking his head. "Sorry, I just – I didn't mean to shock you. We'll talk about something else, shall we?"

Draco closed his gaping mouth with a snap. The resignation in Harry's voice didn't go unnoticed. "Do you want to talk about something else?" he asked haltingly. "Or did you want to continue talking about your parents?"

"It's morbid…"

"It's your life…"

"It _was_ my life," Harry corrected.

"Right. Besides, what else can we do?"

Harry smiled wretchedly. "It's a sad day indeed when we have nothing better to do than discuss my miserable years."

"I don't know about you, but today has been the worst day of my life. I don't think your life story is going to make me feel any worse," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

"This is definitely not the worst day of mine," Harry mumbled.

"What was your worst?" Draco asked curiously. Harry didn't deign to answer. Draco waited for a few seconds, cocking his head to the side. When he didn't hear anything, he decided that Harry wasn't going to answer him. "What was your best?"

"Oddly enough, same day as my worst."

Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Odd indeed."

Harry thought about it more. "Maybe not. I think it was the day I set foot on this island…"

"Really?"

"Yes. It was the start of a new life for me. A fresh start. I could be whoever I wanted to be. The prospects were enormous and I still love my life."

"You love your life."

Harry grinned. "Yes."

"Don't you miss your old life?" Draco asked.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "Yes, sometimes. My friends, mostly. But they understand. They let me be. Best friends anybody could have, I suppose," he said nostalgically.

"In all my travels, I have never met a man like you, Mr. Potter," Draco said.

Harry laughed. "Really? You have traveled a lot then? Because that does seem like a tall order. And um… it's Harry. Not Mr. Potter."

"Yes, I have traveled quite a bit. Seen the world, I suppose. First time in Canada, though."

"This is the only other place I have been other than Surrey."

"Pity. It's an amazing world out there."

"I am sure."

"Don't just go by what you read in the books! You need to experience it for yourself. The people, the culture, and the sheer size of the countries is just – it's so captivating," Draco said, reminiscing about his holidays in Europe and Asia.

"Tell me," Harry said.

How the night flew by. Harry was taken on wild adventures in the thick jungles of Africa and the putrid streets of India. He rowed down the river in Italy and took quiet dips in the Baltic Sea. He learnt about the gory details of the riots that ended slavery in parts of British Empire. Draco tried his best to explain the cultural differences between parts of Africa using food descriptions. Harry heard about the wild animals that roamed the jungles, free of human interruption. He was told of the odd rituals that Draco had witnessed during his stays in the coasts of India. Before they knew it, the sun was starting to peek out of the thick fog. Dew was forming on the dry grass. Dawn was breaking.

"Look at that! You managed to keep awake!" Harry exclaimed, staring at the pink horizon.

"Barely," Draco said, yawning for the umpteenth time. "And now we have to head back down, don't we?" he groaned, feeling his sore ribs and stretching is aching legs.

Harry grinned. "Yes. We do. There's food downstairs."

"Always an incentive – food."

The descend to the kitchen was quicker than the climb up. With less stops and gasps, the men made it down in record time. Harry opened the door to his bedroom, guiding Draco into it. "You can sleep here. I'm just going to be downstairs, making some breakfast," he said, pushing Draco onto his bed.

"Oh, I'm fine in the living room!" Draco insisted, trying to get up.

"For my peace of mind, just sleep here," Harry said.

"For your peace of mind?" Draco asked thoughtfully. "Well, alright then."

"Good, I'll be back with some breakfast," Harry said, walking out of the room and loping down to the kitchen. He quickly warmed water, steeping tealeaves in it while he made oatmeal and doused it with an unhealthy dollop of honey. He wasn't sure what Draco was used to eating for breakfast, so Harry hoped the sweetness would help Draco keep the food down. He seared a couple sausage links as well. He arranged them all on a plate, setting the tea on the tray and trying to balance the cutlery beside it as he ascended the stairs. He reached the bedroom without mishap, pushing the door open with his foot. He found Draco on the foot of his bed, sitting cross-legged and examining the oblong, black object in his hand. It was the size of his fist and six holes were placed around the body. A small spout branched off the round object. Draco was feeling it with wonder, trying to decide if he had ever seen this curio before.

"It's an ocarina. English pendant."

"A what?"

"A musical instrument," Harry clarified, setting the tray on his bed and sitting next to Draco.

"_This_?" Draco exclaimed in disbelief. "But it's so small!"

"It make soft music too," Harry said, taking the ocarina from Draco's hands. He placed his lips on the mouth of the ocarina, pushing air into it gently. He ran through the seven notes basic notes. The octave was high and the tone wavered slightly under Harry's inexperienced breath. Draco's eyebrows shot up at the sound. Harry smiled, pursing his lips and playing a quick Irish ditty he had learnt in school. The sprite sound rang mutely in the room, a cheery tune that was bound to cheer up a sad crowd. It reminded Harry of drunk leprechauns and stolen gold, which was what the song was about if he could remember the words to it. But the melody itself brought a small smile onto Draco's face. When Harry finished his song, Draco had stuck his hand out, wanting to try the instrument for himself. Harry handed it to him.

"You are quite good," Draco said, feeling the instrument with his hands again.

"Practice. I've had it for over twenty years."

"How do you play it?"

"Your mouth goes over there," Harry said, moving Draco's fingers over the wide mouth of the instrument. "And your fingers close or open these holes to make different notes."

"Like a flute?"

"Yes. Somewhat."

"I can play the flute," Draco said vaguely, blowing air into the ocarina. It made a low, fluttering note before breaking away. "Marvelous!" Draco exclaimed.

"Now you've found something to entertain yourself with. I brought you breakfast. You should eat and then go right to sleep," Harry said.

"What's for breakfast?"

"Honeyed oatmeal and sausage. Some tea as well." Draco settled on the edge of the bed and Harry placed the tray on Draco's lap. "How's the fever?" Harry asked.

"I wouldn't be so pleasant if I didn't have a fever," Draco muttered, hungrily digging into his breakfast.

Harry eyed Draco worriedly. He wasn't sure if he should leave the man alone in the room. He also knew that the man needed some privacy. Harry hadn't left his side for over a day, keeping a sharp eye on him. "If you aren't feeling well, just shout. I'm a light sleeper, I'll be up here in a matter of seconds," Harry said.

"I feel fine," Draco insisted.

"I know. Just wanted to let you know."

"For your peace of mind."

"Right," Harry smiled. "Um, good night then," he said.

"Good night, Harry," Draco said, blinking his blind eyes at Harry's departing figure.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I am not J.K. Rowling. This story is merely my way of saluting her. I do not own any of these characters; I just manipulate their thoughts.

**Summary**: Harlequin, meet Harry. Set in the late 1870's, this is a story about a lighthouse keeper who is content with the solitary life he leads until a shipwreck washes ashore a remarkable young man. As the keeper cares for the young man, his will to start living again rejuvenates, sprouting from admiration to adoration to love.

Alternate Universe. Non-Magic. Slash. Harry/Draco.

**A/N:** Timeline's messed up. Don't mind it. I'm a few decades off here and there. Enjoy!

* * *

Harry plopped on his sofa, stretching and yawning as he felt the sleep pulling him in. He was asleep in a matter of seconds, his legs draped over the end of the couch and his arms behind his head. He wasn't in that position for long though. He was woken up by insistent coughs. He groaned lowly, rolling over and covering his ears. The coughs didn't stop. He sighed and got up blearily. He filled a cup with water and stumbled up the stairs. He knocked twice before opening the door.

Draco was under the covers, shivering slightly. His eyes were shut and the coughs were threatening to rattle out of him again. Harry sat on the edge of the bed and gently woke Draco up. Draco blinked and frowned.

"It's me," Harry said.

Draco turned his head at Harry.

"I brought some water," Harry continued.

Draco nodded, sitting up against the headboard. The cough burst out and it sounded painful. Harry handed the water to Draco, who finished it in three swallows. Just the action of drinking seemed to have taken its toll on Draco, who slumped against the bed, breathing heavily. Harry saw the sweat slicking Draco's forehead. The fever wasn't breaking.

"Don't lie down. Just prop up like that. You won't have to cough as much," Harry said, plumping the pillow beside Draco and pushing it against the headboard. Draco nodded again, leaning on the pillow and taking deep breaths. Harry went downstairs and soaked a rag in cold water. He brought it up, placing it on Draco's bandaged forehead. He inspected Draco's wrist. The swelling was going down but the bruises looked agonizingly purple. Another cough sounded, softer this time. Draco's face was drawn into a slight grimace. Harry watched Draco for a beat longer, realizing that he would need to keep an eye on the ailing man. He dragged himself off of the bed tiredly and walked into his library. He ran his eyes down the disorderly shelves. He stopped at Mansfield Park and smiled. He unshelved it and went into his bedroom, sitting cross-legged on his mattress beside Draco and cracking the book open. Admittedly, he had only read the book once. Harry wanted to see what all the fuss was about after Draco had heatedly defended his taste in books.

Once in a while, another coughing bout would wrack through Draco's shivering frame and Harry would absently dip the rag in the cold water and place it back on Draco's forehead again. Other times, Draco would mumble incoherently in his sleep and Harry would gently pull him out of his delirious nightmares. Harry's eyes were closing on their own accord. He would shake himself awake, rereading the same page of Austen for the tenth time. As the morning wore on to just before noon, Harry was knocked out. He curled on the bed, snoring softly. His book lay unheeded in his hand. Even though he was jerked awake whenever Draco whimpered, he would fall right back to sleep after Draco calmed down. After a final struggle out of his nightmare, Draco finally fell asleep fitfully.

Harry cracked his eyes open and saw the orange tinged sky from his window. He wasn't feeling rested in the least and it was already time to wake up. At least he had gotten a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. He sighed and shifted around, trying to shield his eyes from the sun. When he buried his head in Draco's shoulder, he realized that something was amiss. He opened his eyes wider and found himself staring at Draco's neck. He stiffened impulsively and became aware of Draco's arms around him, cradling him. Harry's own hands were tucked against Draco's chest.

"Um…" Harry said for the lack of a better opening.

"You talk a lot in your sleep," Draco mumbled. Harry frowned as he tried to figure out how he had ended up in that situation. Draco snorted to himself. "In fact, you yell a lot in your sleep," he clarified.

"Oh…"

"Do you remember?" Draco asked.

"No."

"Hmm…" Draco said. He loosened his hold on Harry. Harry rolled off as soon as Draco's arms were out of the way. Draco was on his side, having fallen asleep again. His arms still lay where Harry had been and he had a pensive look on his face as he slept. Harry kept frowning at Draco, unsure of what had just happened. Unsure of why he wanted to be back in Draco's arms. He scrambled off of bed, nearly tumbling over the edge as his feet tangled with the messy covers. He swayed slightly as the blood rushed to his head. He righted himself on the bedpost. Draco's coughs were almost non-existent now. Harry knew that Draco could sleep through the night with the slight fever he still had. He yanked his eyes away from Draco, collecting himself.

Harry didn't have time to ponder because he needed to wash up and climb to the lantern room in an hour. Once he had lit the lamp and topped up the kerosene, he sat down on the chair sleepily. To think this way about a man was an abomination. So Harry tried not to. He busied himself with straightening out the service room. He kept his mind on work, checking up on the fire more often than he needed to. The fog wasn't as thick this night. Thankfully the weather was getting slightly warmer. Harry hoped that it wouldn't bring more rain. He sat at his desk, writing the log from the night before. As he did so, his mind kept moving to last night's conversations he had had with Draco. It sounded exciting, to be traveling with not a care in the world. All the things Draco had talked about – the people, food, places, and traditions – sounded remarkable to Harry. He had never been out of the Western civilization before. He didn't know if he could handle it the way Draco did, with excitement and a sense of adventure. Harry was done taking chances with his life. Monotonous work as a lighthouse keeper kept his spirits high enough.

Halfway through his shift, Harry started to worry about how Draco would be doing. He realized that leaving a sick man to fend for himself in a strange house was probably not the best course of action to take. So he made his way down the winding stairs after he had trimmed the wick. He knocked on the door to his bedroom softly. He didn't hear an answer. He opened the door and peered inside. Draco was still fast asleep, sprawled haphazardly on the bed with half of his body hanging off the side. Harry smiled despite himself, walking down to his kitchen and preparing a quick snack consisting of dates and biscuits. He placed it on the bedside table beside the glass of water. He woke Draco up. Draco opened his eyes blearily.

"Sorry, just wanted to tell you that there's some food for you on the table. And water too, if you need it," Harry whispered. Draco glanced at the plate and nodded, falling back to sleep. Harry frowned. He shook Draco awake again. Draco grumbled, wiping the sweat off of his neck as he turned away from Harry. Harry turned Draco back around and hissed, "Wake up."

"No," Draco moaned.

"Did you just see?"

Draco mumbled something Harry didn't catch. Harry squeezed Draco's shoulder urgently. Draco sighed in frustration, opening his eyes again. "What?" he asked hoarsely.

"Can you see?"

Draco blinked at the ceiling.

"You can, can't you?"

Draco frowned, rubbing his eyes. "Um… I –" he started saying. He stopped midsentence, turning to Harry. "No…" he said in confusion. "I – I saw something, but now – it's just – I can't."

"What did you see?"

"The roof."

"And the biscuits?"

Draco blinked in puzzlement. "Y – yes, that too…"

Harry felt a slow smile grow on his face. "You saw it? That's wonderful!"

"No, I can't see it anymore," Draco repeated.

"I know, but you _did_ see it! Which means your eyes are fine!"

"R – right…"

"Which means it's not permanent. Maybe you just need more sleep," Harry said thoughtfully.

Draco groaned, sitting up painfully. "I don't think I can anymore," he said, yawning and running his fingers through his matted hair. His face turned into a look of disgust. "Ugh, I must look absolutely revolting," he muttered.

"You can wash up, then. I'll get you a set of clothes to wear," Harry said, walking to his wardrobe. He imagined that all his clothes would not hang right on Draco. Draco had a taller, leaner stature than Harry. "They won't fit you that well, but it's something."

Draco stretched on the bed, feeling his way off of it. Harry helped Draco down the stairs to the bathroom. "There's water in the tub. Sorry it's cold. You can – manage?" Harry asked, blushing.

Draco rolled his eyes, feeling his way towards the tub. "Yes, I can manage."

"O – okay. I – I'll make some food for you," Harry stammered. "The clothes are by the door." He pulled the door closed.

Harry went through the motions of making dinner. But his thoughts were on Draco's odd predicament. He hoped that Draco's eyesight returned over time. At least Draco's head wasn't hurting any longer. That was a good thing. He was plating the dinner when he heard the door to the bathroom open. Harry made his way to the bathroom. He stumbled to a halt and his eyebrows shot up. Draco was leaning against the door, his eyes shut as he felt the stitches on his head. His shirt hung open, black bruises on his ribs. Harry's heart stalled as he ran his eyes down Draco's pained face. He was right in thinking that Draco's hair was his most precious asset. The blond hair hung in strands, framing Draco's pale face and sticking up in odd places. Rivulets of water dripped down his torso. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and took calming breaths. He shot them open when he heard a small gasp from Draco. He was supporting himself against the door and his face was scrunched. The fingers that were on his stitches were now on his eyes. Harry moved to help, but stopped when Draco seemingly shook the pain off. Draco straightened up with some effort, groaning tiredly. Harry watched Draco gently touch his aching ribs and wince. Draco tried to button his shirt with one hand. After a minute of fumbling he gave up in frustration. He sighed loudly, running his fingers over his hair, trying to give it some order.

Harry blushed when he realized that he was spying on Draco. He walked backwards out of the room as quietly as he could. He took a moment to calm his senses before staggering back to his kitchen. He splashed cold water on his face. "Stop it," he muttered to himself, slapping the counter with his hand and recovering.

By the time Harry finished putting dinner on the dining table, Draco had stumbled in. "Um… I can't do this up," Draco muttered embarrassedly.

Harry looked up to find Draco standing uncomfortably in the doorway. He was gesturing at his undone shirt. "I'll help you with that," Harry said, putting down the cutlery and walking to Draco. Draco dropped his hand from the shirt. Harry started at the bottommost button. "You're looking better," he said, more to distract himself than to make conversation.

"I feel better," Draco said, shrugging.

Harry absently wondered what Draco's skin would feel like. Then he bit his tongue for wondering what Draco's skin felt like. He was halfway up the shirt when his fingers brushed against Draco's chest. Draco didn't notice. It was all Harry noticed. His insides twitched as he felt the soft, cold skin. Before Harry could do anything devastating, he quickly buttoned the rest of Draco's buttons and stepped away quickly.

"Thank you," Draco said. Harry didn't trust his tongue, so he mumbled something that Draco took as an affirmation. "That smells good," he said, reaching out to Harry expectantly. Harry grabbed Draco's arm, pulling him to the table quickly.

That night they dined in silence since both men were lost in their thoughts. They were almost done eating when Draco finally broke out of his thoughts. "Do you have nightmares often?" he asked.

Harry almost chocked on his sandwich at the question. He took a quick gulp of his water. He cleared his throat, "Um, nightmares?"

"Before. Scared me half to death when you started yelling."

"I – er… sorry."

Draco smiled. "Nothing to it. I was just wondering if you had them often."

"I guess. I wouldn't know. I don't remember my dreams," Harry mumbled.

"That's a good thing, I suppose. It sounded awful."

Harry didn't respond. He quickly finished his dinner. "I have to go now," he said, finishing his water and getting up quickly.

"That's fine. I can finish up," Draco said helpfully.

"I'll be back in an hour," Harry said, getting out of the dining room as fast as he could.

Harry knew it was just infatuation. It could be nothing else. Draco was the first person Harry had gotten close with for over ten years. He seemed like a godsend to Harry. That thought was bothering him. He hadn't felt like he was missing the company of anyone over the past years, and yet after spending a day with this man, Harry was starting to wonder if he should be missing it. The remarkable strength Draco put up was filling Harry with admiration. Draco hadn't broken down about his dilemma as of yet and Harry knew Draco wouldn't if he could help it. He guessed that Draco wasn't one to show weakness. The anecdotes he relayed to Harry were amazing to say the least. Draco was so aware of the world. Perhaps that was why he wasn't reacting to his blindness the way Harry would. Draco had seen so much already, he knew that he was well off – lucky. He could very well have died. Yet, he was alive, albeit blind. And that too, not permanent from the looks of it. Harry chided himself for thinking about Draco again – who happened to be married. Harry told himself that once Draco was off his island, he would be able to return to his normal state of mind. Harry also knew that he was fooling himself into thinking that. Once Draco was gone, he would be all Harry was going to think about. After a seed of adventure was planted in a mind, it was difficult to root it out. Especially in Harry's imaginative mind.

Through the course of the night, Draco noticed Harry's increasing silence and offhand conversation. Harry's work had ended without any other distractions and two hours later found the men in Harry's room. Draco was sitting against the headboard and Harry was by the foot of the bed. Draco was absently learning to use the ocarina while Harry was fiddling with the covers. Finally, Draco got tired of waiting for Harry to talk and put the instrument down, staring at Harry's general direction.

"How did you find this island?" Draco asked.

Harry jumped at the sudden interruption. He looked up at Draco and stammered, "I h – heard about them building this tower – the lighthouse – from a friend. I – I thought they might need some help."

"So you just stumbled upon it?"

"Er… I suppose I was looking for a place like this. But yes, I stumbled upon it."

"And you helped build this place."

"Yes. It took a very long time to build, but it's sturdy and works well for me."

"Best day of your life…" Draco said thoughtfully. "This island is very important to you."

Harry nodded at that statement. "It's my home."

"You know, I've never really had a home. Father and Mother were almost never around in the manor. I moved around too, when I was a child. It was always just a house," Draco confided.

"I found a home eight years ago. It's not too late," Harry said reassuringly.

"No, of course not. I wonder if I could ever call this a home."

Harry's fingers stilled over the covers. Draco didn't have to leave; he could stay. Harry immediately dismissed the hopeful thought out of his mind. He didn't know what had prompted it and he knew he shouldn't even think it. "Hmm…" was all he said to Draco's statement.

Draco sighed in frustration, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I've told you so much about me and I don't know anything about you," he said, looking miffed.

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "My stories are hardly interesting compared to yours."

"Of course they are. For different reasons. I've seen the world, you've seen life. It wasn't all bad, was it?"

"No, no. My schooldays were the best years of my life besides these. I made lifelong friends. It's just – there's always been this shadow hanging over my life. I never really got to live because I was –" Harry grappled for the right words. "I guess I never really lived for myself… I don't know if that makes any sense," he said haltingly.

"No, it doesn't," Draco said, his brows pulled together as he tried to piece out what Harry had divulged.

"The man who – killed my parents… He – he was hell bent on trying to kill me too," Harry muttered.

Harry registered the shock on Draco's face. "Wh – why?" Draco asked in horror. "I – I mean, you – you were just a child!"

Harry shrugged. "Revenge. The day he killed my parents, he got caught. He wasn't able to finish what he had started. And he tried to finish it for seven years of my life." Draco was silent. Harry wondered if he should continue. He knew he would scare Draco away. Perhaps that was the best course of action at this point. "Seven years of my life… He is a part of who I am. He did everything in his power to make my life hell. So many – my friends and – he killed so many of them. Everyday, I just think of – I mean, what did he gain from killing them? When I was seventeen he – he tried to kill me. He died that day. He won't be killing anyone anymore…" Harry trailed off, tears dripping on the bed sheets. He quickly wiped them away, glad that Draco wasn't able to see them.

"But you didn't kill him…" Draco said in a hushed but firm tone.

"I – I di– I was never tried."

"But you didn't kill him…"

Harry glanced up at Draco in confusion. "I – I guess not. He died in the struggle. H – his gun went off on him… instead of me."

"Right."

"Right," Harry echoed.

"Because you aren't a killer."

Harry frowned at Draco's determined statement. "I know," he said slowly.

"And it's not your fault."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, perplexed at Draco's words.

"Your dream…" Draco shifted on the bed, crawling towards Harry blindly. "Your nightmare. What you were shouting was – well, besides being terrifying, it was – you were –" Draco felt around for Harry and touched his knee. "You were asking them to spare your friends. To take you instead. I didn't know – I'm so sorry."

"I did?" Harry asked hoarsely.

"But you have to know that it's not your fault," Draco said insistently, feeling his way up to Harry's shoulder. He squeezed it gently. "It sounded like you didn't know that…"

Harry stared at Draco, tears spilling over. "I – how is it not – if they didn't know me, they'd be alive, wouldn't they?"

"I don't think they would regret it," Draco said.

Harry quickly wiped away the rest of his tears and tried to shake the morbid thoughts out of his head. "It doesn't matter. It's done and – and I've moved on," Harry said in a shaky voice.

"You haven't."

"Please, just – we'll talk about something else," Harry muttered, dropping his eyes from Draco's concerned face.

"No, we'll talk about this. Because you are living on this island, alone. You have been here for the best parts of your life. And it's because of this man. You haven't moved on," Draco explained.

"I can't – I can't do this," Harry said, moving to get up.

Draco's fingers tightened around Harry. "Why are you hiding?" he asked.

"I'm not," Harry muttered, trying to quell the urge to run.

"What are you afraid of?"

"Look, this has nothing to do with – I'm not –" Harry sighed in exasperation, willing his tears to stop.

"You're letting this killer run your life! Even after he's dead!"

"I don't want anyone else to get hurt, alright?" Harry said forcefully, tugging away from Draco's grip. He quickly got off of his bed and exited the room, slamming the door shut behind him. The tears burst out of him again and his body wracked with emotion. He blearily made his way to his bathroom, trying to stop his overworked mind. He was fatigued and he was letting his thoughts get the better of him. He washed his face in cold water, trying not to think of what Draco had said. He needed his sleep and he was going to get it.

He was on his couch for another hour before he fell asleep. His emotions had turned from helplessness, to sorrow, to hate, to anger, and back to helplessness. Sleep was a welcome reprieve for Harry.

Draco had given up on patience after a while. He knew Harry was probably asleep and he knew he should be sleeping too. He needed to be on Harry's schedule. Besides, he didn't even know day from night. He tried unsuccessfully to fall asleep. He kept hearing Harry's tearful confession in his head. Guilt ate at him. He slid out of bed and felt his way to the door. The stairs weren't much of a hassle and he climbed down slowly, feeling each step with his foot. He shuffled into the drawing room. His shins were already sore from bumping into everything in his path. He growled in frustration. For all he knew, he could be walking around in circles. His knees bumped against the armchair. He felt his way towards the couch. His hands ran over the back of the sofa and he heard Harry's soft breathing. Draco knelt down beside Harry. He found Harry's hair and he moved his fingers to rest on Harry's shoulder. He contemplated on whether to wake Harry up or not.

"Hmm?" Harry muttered sleepily.

"It – it's me," Draco whispered.

"Wh – what? Are you alright?" Harry asked as he tried to blink away his sleep.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course. I just came to see if you were," he said.

Harry's eyes fell shut at Draco's statement. "Yes," he murmured. "Why aren't you asleep?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"Do you want something?" Harry asked, cracking his eyes open sluggishly.

"No," Draco said softly, letting go of Harry and getting up.

"Where are you going?"

"Upstairs."

Harry groaned. "Like hell you are," he muttered, swinging his legs off of the couch and rubbing his heavy eyes. "I'll take you. I can't believe you made your way down here," he said, getting up.

"I can find my way up. You sleep," Draco said.

"What's a few more minutes, right?" Harry smiled. He grabbed Draco's hand, putting it on his shoulder.

"You are much too accommodating," Draco mumbled.

"And you are my guest," Harry mumbled back, squinting against the sun. Draco made it to the bedroom without further bruises. Harry led him to the bed, firmly pushing him down. "Sleep," Harry said.

"I said I can't."

"What should we do then?"

Draco blinked in disbelief. "_We_ shouldn't do anything. _You_ should be sleeping, not waiting on me hand and foot."

Harry laughed. "I'm not waiting on you hand and foot," he said.

"Fine, then you sleep and I'll figure out something to do," Draco said, pulling Harry down onto the bed.

Harry sighed, trying to wring his hands out of Draco's. "I'll go downstairs," he said.

"No, sleep here," Draco said firmly.

"I can't sleep when you are staring at me," Harry muttered.

"I can't stare," Draco deadpanned. He pushed Harry into the pillows, feeling for the rumpled covers and pulling it over him. "There. You haven't gotten proper sleep since I came," he said.

Harry was too tired to argue. So all he did was sigh and grumble sleepily before growing silent. Draco sat against the headboard, listening to Harry's soft breathing. He was glad that Harry wasn't angry at him. He was also confused that Harry wasn't angry at him. He'd be angry with him. Revealing so much to a stranger was not something Draco could do. He knew he lacked tact. It was his upbringing. His parents often spoke their minds in harsh terms. Draco was bound to pick up on it. He had made Harry burst into tears and yet, here he was. Perhaps Harry had had to learn to forgive quickly. How else could he have remained sane through his miserable childhood? Harry's breathing lulled Draco into a sleepy stupor. He slid his body under the covers and lay on his side. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"It's alright," Harry murmured in his sleep.

Draco smiled. Yes, Harry had forgiven him. He fell asleep.

-x-

Harry woke up slowly. He let the sleep move out of him. He felt rested and oddly at peace. He breathed in deeply and opened his eyes.

"Hell," he exhaled. He was staring at Draco's neck again and he felt arms wound around his back. Harry's heart pounded at the proximity. It felt perfect.

"Hmm?" Draco asked as he opened his eyes. Black is all he saw. Disappointment filled him until he realized that Harry's hands were bunching his shirt and that his own hands were wrapped around Harry. He felt Harry's rapid breath against his neck. He frowned in confusion, letting go of Harry. Harry pushed away quickly. "Sorry," Draco mumbled, sitting upright. Of all the things to wish for, he found himself wishing that he could see Harry.

Harry stared at Draco's sleep tousled hair and puzzled frown. His heart fluttered. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to empty his head. "It's fine," Harry said, horrified at how shaky his voice was. "I – I should – I should go," he stammered, throwing back the covers and getting out of bed.

"Right. Can I come?" Draco asked hopefully, yawning his sleep away.

Harry had half a mind to say no. He couldn't work if Draco was in the same room. But what else could Draco do other than keep Harry company? Harry stifled a sigh. "Yes, of course."

Draco smiled. Two hours later, the men were up in the service room by the desk. Awkward pauses punctuated their small talk. Draco noticed Harry's pensive words. He didn't know what to do about them. He didn't bring it up, knowing that Harry had a lot on his mind from that morning.

"Could I go out on the gallery again?" Draco asked.

Harry pursed his lips. "Are you sure?"

"It's just the sea, right?" Draco said, his voice hinting of trepidation.

Harry eyed Draco for a moment longer. "Right. Do you want to go now?"

Draco nodded curtly, getting up from the desk. Harry led him to the door on his right, opening it slowly. He glanced back at Draco's stoic face, wondering what he was thinking. Harry stepped into the gallery and he smelt the overwhelming scent of salt. The wind was light and cold. Harry hoped Draco wouldn't mind the breeze. He guided Draco's hand to the railing. Draco grabbed on tightly, taking gulps of air to calm himself. It wasn't as bad as the first time. Having Harry standing next to him helped. Draco knew he wasn't alone.

"How were you the only one not on the raft?"

Draco frowned out into the ocean at Harry's words. "I couldn't make it in time," he said hesitantly. Harry didn't respond. Draco knew what Harry wanted to know. "I – I had lost something. I needed to find it. I took too long," he said softly.

"Did you find it?"

Draco dropped his head. "No."

"It was important..."

"It seemed important at the time."

"What was it?"

Draco rubbed his eyes tiredly. "It doesn't matter."

"But what was it?" Harry asked again.

"Just – something Mother gave me, that's all."

"An heirloom?"

"I suppose… Just a book."

Harry looked away from Draco. "If it were just a book, you wouldn't be here," he said.

"Is something wrong, Harry?" Draco asked, worried at Harry's morose words. He reached out and connected with Harry's arm. "This isn't about yesterday, is it?" he asked in concern. "I'm so sorry for – pushing you into talking."

Harry gently tugged his arm away from Draco as he tried to stop his emotions from surfacing. "No," he said curtly.

Draco tried not to show his hurt as he felt Harry's arm pull away. He clutched the railing to keep himself from getting disoriented. "Then what is it?" he asked.

"Nothing. I'm fine," Harry said. "I – do you think you are ready for an eight hour trip to the seaport?"

Draco's brows pulled together. "Um… I suppose," he said.

"If the weather permits, we can go tomorrow. I am sure your family is anxious," Harry said.

"Right," Draco said resignedly. His family.

"Do you want to go back inside?" Harry asked.

Draco nodded, lost in thought. Harry wanted him to leave and who was he to argue. He was supposed to leave. He wanted to leave. The island was too monotonous for him. But Harry wasn't. He realized he didn't want to leave Harry alone on the island. His fingers tightened around Harry's shoulder as they walked back to the service room. "You should come with me," Draco said impulsively.

"Wh – what?" Harry exclaimed, staggering to a halt.

"You have been on this island for ten years. You miss your friends. You should come with me."

"No, no. The lighthouse… It's my job."

"You don't have to leave forever. Just for a while. On holiday."

"I can't just go," Harry said, rolling his eyes as he helped Draco into the chair.

"We'll find a replacement at the seaport. People would do anything for money."

"You're going to pay them?" Harry asked sardonically.

"I have money. You need to get off of this island for a while. It will work out."

"Mental," Harry muttered, taking his seat.

"I want my mother to meet you!" Draco said insistently.

"I'm not good with people," Harry grumbled.

"You are good with me."

"You are different."

"I am my mother's son."

"No, I'm not leaving," Harry said firmly. Draco sighed in frustration. Harry conveniently ignored it. "Once you are in town, we can telegraph your family. The Pacific Express will take you to the east. The ship will take you to England. Thank goodness for the train, I suppose."

"Thank goodness," Draco repeated sullenly.

Harry was perplexed at Draco's mood. "Aren't you glad to be going home?" he asked curiously.

"Of course I'm glad. I can't stand it here." He couldn't see Harry flinch. "I just want to make sure you aren't angry at me."

"I'm not."

"You're not very convincing," Draco said.

"I have nothing to be angry about."

"You've been so quiet."

"I've been thinking."

"Fine," Draco said in displeasure. "Be angry."

Harry laughed in disbelief. "Do you _want_ me to be angry at you?"

"No."

"So, stop instigating it."

"Fine."

Harry chuckled helplessly at Draco's irritated expression. They drowned in their thoughts for a while.

"I'll miss you, that's all," Draco said suddenly. Harry's heart melted at the confession. He stared at Draco's embarrassed face in wonderment. Draco continued before he could change his mind. "You – you haven't judged me and it's so easy to talk to you. You are sincerely interested in all I have to say, not like the other people I converse with. You don't pretend. I suppose you don't have a reason to pretend. Hell, even my parents pretend in front of me. We're so alike and yet, so different. I'll miss talking to you."

Harry didn't know what to say. He sat on his chair, frozen as the words sunk in. Draco shifted uncomfortably. Against his better judgment, Harry asked, "Do you really want me to come with you?"

Draco shook his head, fumbling with the papers on the desk. "Do _you_ want to come with me?" he asked in turn. "You do have a choice, Harry. I'm not forcing you into anything. It's your life, after all."

Harry was stumped. A choice… He had never had a choice. "Right, it _is_ my life."

"You can't let others decide how you're going to live it," Draco said. Harry knew what Draco was talking about. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't have to think about it until Draco brought it up. Now that was all he did.

"A holiday?"

"Yes."

"I suppose I could use a holiday," Harry said deliberately.

Draco face lit up into a charming grin. "Yes, you could!"

Harry realized that he was agreeing with Draco just so he could spend more time with the man. Harry also realized how convoluted it was. He tried to reason with himself. Draco was a friend. Nothing more. Harry needed to get off of the island once in a while. This was a perfect opportunity. He did want to see his friends. But most importantly, he wanted to delay saying goodbye to Draco. There was no denying that. He jumped when Draco's hand touched his. He looked up at Draco's triumphant smile.

"Thank you," Draco said.

"I – um… your welcome?"

Draco chuckled. "You won't believe how unburdened I feel. You could stay at the manor. We have enough –"

Harry interrupted Draco's excited rambling. "Oh, I have my own house in London," he said quickly.

"You do?"

"My godfather's house. He left it for me."

"Really?"

Harry grinned. "Despite what you might think, I'm not poor," he said.

"You aren't?"

Harry laughed at Draco's glib comment. "In fact, I'm quite rich," Harry added for Draco's benefit.

"You are?"

"Why do you find all this so hard to believe?" Harry asked in amusement.

"What's your definition of rich, exactly?"

"Er… Rich – beyond belief?"

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "Beyond belief?"

"As in I don't have to work a day in my life."

"What?"

"As in I could live three times over with my inheritance."

"No, you can't!"

"How poor did you think I was?" Harry asked, chuckling.

"Very!" Draco answered, his eyes wide.

"My parents weren't penniless, you know."

"No, I didn't."

"Hmm…"

"You're so strange," Draco said.

"I'm glad I amuse you."

"Me too," Draco countered, winking.

Harry's spirits were renewed at the prospect of traveling with Draco – essentially being Draco's eyes. The seas were calm, as though aware of the journey Harry and Draco were to embark on. The winds were favorable and as Harry helped Draco climb onto the sleek boat, he was feeling optimistic about this 'holiday'. He had packed minimal supplies, knowing that he could buy more at the seaport. He liked to travel light. Draco didn't have any provisions of his own. So they set sail as soon as they had finished breakfast. Harry was feeling much too excited to consider sleeping. The sea voyage was smooth and Draco started to feel more at ease after the first couple of hours. He still clutched the sides of the wooden boat with white knuckles, but he was starting to talk to Harry. Harry helped Draco get his mind off of the sea, talking about what he wanted to do once he set foot in Canada. What Draco craved the most was a hot bath. What Harry wanted the most was to get Draco's wrist and head checked by a doctor. The simplicities of life are often exaggerated when faced with adversity. Harry agreed to find Draco a lodge that had a hot bath. Draco greatly appreciated the offer with a grand grin.

Throughout the journey, Draco saw flickers of blue. Sometimes, an image would slowly blur into view. But all Draco saw was the blur. No definite image. He wasn't complaining. He was glad to be able to see anything at all. Harry was glad too because he saw Draco's eyes light up every time he caught a glimpse of something.

"I think I'm starting to appreciate the colors more," Draco mused.

"But your head doesn't hurt anymore, does it?"

"A little. It's fine. Not like before."

"You should get some rest," Harry said.

"I'm not tired," Draco said, yawning.

"Of course not," Harry remarked sarcastically.

"I should keep you company. Not sleep."

"I have been traveling to the port for years. Never had company before," Harry explained.

"I'll sleep when we get there."

Despite the firm objection, Draco was fast asleep within the next hour. Harry draped a blanket over him, knowing that a sunburn was probably not what Draco would appreciate at the moment. The last four hours of the journey was uneventful for Harry as he steered south. Harry was proud and slightly frightened that he had agreed to embark on such a spontaneous journey. Draco's impulsive state of mind was starting to rub off on Harry.

When he saw the fishing village on the horizon, he nudged Draco awake. "We're here," Harry announced.

Draco jerked awake. "I fell asleep? Why didn't you wake me up?" he asked accusingly.

"You needed the sleep, I needed the rest from your questions," Harry said nonchalantly.

Draco huffed. Harry was starting to notice how youthful most of Draco's mannerisms were. Although in years Draco wasn't much younger than Harry, in spirit he was. Harry wondered exactly how naïve Draco was. From all he had heard, Draco had led a sheltered life. Even while traveling, Draco had always experienced the traditions and cultures with an omnipresent view. Everything seemed black and white to Draco. Perhaps the shipwreck was the first real experience Draco had had. And what an experience that had been.

Harry pulled the boat up to the dock. The attendants quickly tethered it to one of the posts. Harry helped Draco out of the boat and onto the wooden dock. The young men eyed Draco curiously. After Harry had unloaded his things, he noticed the awkward stares. "Er – Good afternoon," he said. Now the men turned to stare at Harry with wide eyes. The lighthouse keeper just spoke. They blinked in awe. Harry shuffled on his feet. "R – right. Um – there was a shipwreck three nights ago. The Archangel. Do you know if the survivors are here?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes, sir!" one of the boys said eagerly. "With the doctor. I will take you there!"

"Thank you," Harry said, smiling. He gathered the bags and placed Draco's hand on his shoulder. He followed the boy's springy steps. The rest of the men watched on dumbly, unsure of what had just happened.

"Are all of them accounted for?" Harry asked the boy.

"Well," the boy said, eyeing Draco. "Now they are."

"Good."

"Is he blind?" the boy asked, scrutinizing Draco.

Draco scoffed. "I'm blind, not deaf," he said.

The boy colored considerably and started walking faster.

"That was rude," Harry muttered so only Draco could hear.

"He was rude."

Harry rolled his eyes. The fishing village was always bustling with activity. Vendors stood along the coastline, hoping to draw in buyers by yelling over each other and waving their catches in the air. The scent of seafood was strong and Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. He continually tripped over the uneven stones but Harry was patient. They eventually made it to the small hospital without any major spills. The boy ran in after telling Harry and Draco to have a seat in the waiting room. They were the only ones in there. Draco was too wound up to sit down. So Harry watched as Draco blindly paced in front of him. Draco didn't have to pace for long. The elderly doctor strode in with a large grin on his face.

"This is wonderful news indeed!" he boomed with his loud voice. Draco staggered at the unexpected intrusion and Harry steadied him quickly. He smiled at the doctor, shaking his hand. The doctor beamed at Harry and then at Draco. The smile quickly turned into a puzzled frown as he ran his eyes over Draco's injuries. "Let's have a look," he said, motioning for the two men to follow him.

Harry grabbed Draco's elbow, dragging him into the doctor's office. The doctor's puzzled frown turned into a worried scowl. "He's – he's blind?" the doctor asked. "They didn't tell me."

Harry made Draco sit still in the chair the doctor motioned to. "Um – he wasn't blind before… His head…" Harry gestured helplessly at the haphazard stitches on the side of Draco's temple. The doctor brushed away Draco's hair, gently prodding the skin around the wound. "He can see in flashes. He sees light and colors. Today he started seeing shapes."

"I can't focus on anything. Most, I just see black," Draco interjected, irritated that Harry was answering the questions for him.

"His wrist is broken too," Harry said.

"_That_ can be easily set. _This_, I'm not sure about," the doctor said thoughtfully.

"But it's not permanent. He _could_ see again, couldn't he?" Harry asked.

"Stranger things have happened. I mean, here he is alive and well," the doctor remarked. "Would you like to visit your friends? I've kept them here for the past two days. Bloody pain too," he grumbled.

Draco grinned. "Yes, they are a bloody pain. I would like to see them," he said.

"I haven't told them of your arrival yet. And I'm expecting a madhouse when I do. You won't believe the ruckus those men made. Kept going on and on about search parties and rescue boats," the doctor ranted, leading the men out of the office and into the infirmary. "Had to break apart fights. Fights! In my hospital!" the doctor shook his head in disbelief. "Never seen a rowdier bunch of sailors."

Draco was trying to stifle his laughter as he let Harry lead the way.

"Here we are," the doctor said. "Please, don't break anything," he pleaded. He opened the door. Harry had to bite down on his lip to keep from laughing at the loud, angry shouts he heard from inside the room.

"_Bloody scum!_ You aren't doing _shit_!"

"Sir, I suggest you sit back –"

"Sit back down, my arse! How can I sit back down when I should be out there looking for him?"

"Please, sir!"

"Bloody idiots. How long do you plan on keeping us in this hell hole?"

"Sir, we need you to refrain from –"

"I'll talk as I bloody well please."

Harry had heard enough. He took pity on the poor nurses and their stricken ears. He pulled Draco into the room. The sight in front of him was enough to make him laugh out loud. There were ten beds lined along the walls. The room was filled with rugged, bleary-eyed sailors. Sheets and pillows were strewn across the floor. Some of the men were pacing along their beds. A few were gathered around a map, talking in low voices. Three were arguing heatedly with the two dumbfounded nurses.

"You may not care if he's dead or alive, but we'd bloody well like to see him alive. Damn it, you can't keep us here for much longer!"

Draco sighed. "Shut the _fuck_ up, Blaise," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'm alive. Dramatic arse…"

The room froze.

"Language!" Harry chided. He smiled apologetically at the nurses.

The room unfroze.

"Bloody hell." Next thing Harry knew, he was facing a stampede of men. He yelped, wrapping an arm around Draco's waist protectively. Draco and Harry were hit with a torrent of bodies and loud, ecstatic swears. Draco had to hold his broken arm against his chest to keep it from jostling. Sharp thumps landed on his back and crushing hugs threatened to choke him to death. He gripped Harry tight, not wanting to lose him in the mad rush. The doctor was right. The sailors had no self-control.

"I won't be alive for long if you keep this us," Draco gasped, coughing. The men let go instantly, grinning sheepishly.

"Sorry. It's just – we thought – well, it doesn't matter what we thought. You're _alive_. Bloody lucky son of a bitch!"

Draco rolled his eyes again. He realized that he was still holding onto Harry. He let go and so did Harry. "This is –"

"Are you alright?"

Harry noticed the men eyeing Draco with concern. They had finally noticed. Draco closed his eyes in exasperation. "I'm just peachy. Besides being fucking blind, nothing wrong at all," he said.

"What?"

Draco sighed, turning to Harry. "You explain," he said. "This is Harry. My – savior," Draco said to the crowd, winking cheekily.

"Now look who's being a dramatic arse," Harry mumbled, blushing. "He – his head is pretty banged up. It's not permanent, but he's blind."

"Crummy explanation," Draco muttered.

"Well, what more do you want me to tell them?" Harry asked sullenly.

"Gory details, obviously."

Harry guffawed. "Fine. I found him at sea with the debris. He lost a lot of blood. I sewed him up with ten stitches. His wrist is fractured. And I had to break his ribs to get him to breathe. He can see blurry objects once in a while, but mostly it's just black. So it's probably just temporary blindness," he said. The sailors gaped at him. "Happy?" he asked Draco.

"Damn it, I wish I could see your faces right now…" Draco said wistfully.

"You fucking bastard, if you weren't blind, I'd sock you one in the jaw!"

"That's –" Draco started saying.

"What the hell were you playing at? You could have died!"

"I didn't," Draco mumbled.

"Do you have any idea how terrified your mother is?"

"Look, I –"

"And not to mention how terrified we were! One second you were there and the next you were gone."

"It's not on –"

"Like hell I'm taking you on another ship. Fucking cunt."

Harry made a disparaging sound. "That's enough," he said loudly, glaring at Blaise. Draco was evidently growing more and more uncomfortable. Blaise was not helping. "No use beating a dead donkey…"

Blaise made a noise of frustration. "Don't back him up," he muttered, returning Harry's glare.

"He's been through a lot. Just – don't be so harsh…" Harry said, trailing off.

"And who the fuck are you?" Blaise asked.

That was all Draco needed to recover. "Whoa, Blaise. He saved my life. Use common courtesy."

"This is my common courtesy," Blaise muttered.

"Use _my_ common courtesy, then," Draco said.

"Narcissa is going to murder me, do you know that? Are you happy with yourself?"

"Yes," Draco said, folding his arms on his chest.

"Well, I think it's brilliant that he's alive," another sailor indicated.

"Yes, thank you," Draco said with a smile at the general direction the voice came from. "I think it's brilliant too."

Blaise grumbled some more, eyeing Draco with disdain. Without warning, he pulled Draco into a bone-crushing hug. "Don't you _ever_ scare us like that again," he whispered into Draco's ear.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered back.

Blaise pulled back, eyeing Draco suspiciously. "What?"

"I said I'm sorry."

"Since when?"

Draco threw up his arms in defeat. "Seriously?"

"That knock to the head must have fixed something."

"Bloody idiot," Draco mumbled fiercely.

"Have you at least let Narcissa know that you're alive?"

"Haven't had a chance.'

"Well, what the fuck are you waiting for?"

"Fine, fine," Draco said, reaching out for Harry. Harry took Draco's hand and placed it on his shoulder. "I'll be back. And please don't break anything. Doctor's orders," Draco said with a cheeky smile. Harry fled before the sailors could chuck pillows at them. The thankful nurses gave them directions to the post office. After getting Draco's wrist splinted properly, the two men headed out to telegraph Draco's mother.

"So… Interesting group to travel with," Harry commented.

"Quite the characters."

"Blaise is…"

"My best friend."

"Hmm…"

"He's not usually like that."

"How long have you known him?"

"I've known him since school. But we've only been friends for about ten years. Since after Father left…"

"Since your father left for where?"

Draco ran his fingers through his hair. "Um – left Mother."

"Oh…"

They walked in silence the rest of the way. The post office was crowded, as usual. Being a seaport, sailors used the post office to send letters to their loved ones regarding their safe arrival. Ships that docked often received their parcels from the small post office. The queue to make it to the telegraph interpreter seemed to take hours and Draco was growing weary after the first five minutes. When the two men finally made it to the front of the line, Draco was crabby.

"To?"

"1800 Ring Road, London, England. Narcissa Black."

"Message?"

"I am alive. Stop."

Harry jabbed Draco in the ribs. "_No_, that is not the message," Harry said, ignoring Draco's snarl. "Um, how about – I am in Canada safely. Stop. I am well. Stop. I will be home in a month. Stop."

"Mine would have saved some money," Draco grumbled.

"Yes, and probably struck your mother dead."

"From?" the interpreter asked impatiently.

"Right, right. Um – Your son. Stop. Draco Lucius Malfoy. Stop. How much is that?" Draco asked.

"A shilling."

"_A shilling_? Highway robbery!" Draco exclaimed.

"A shilling, sir."

Draco sighed. "Harry?"

"R – right. A shilling? Er – h – here…" Harry stammered, his thoughts racing. When he finally snapped back to his senses, he realized that he was outside the post office and Draco was shaking his shoulder vehemently.

"_Harry_!"

"Wh – what?"

"Why aren't you moving?"

Harry spun around to face Draco. "Malfoy…"

"Right."

"You are – Lucius Malfoy's… son?"

Draco frowned. "Yes," he said slowly.

Harry let out a strangled moan, staggering back. Draco reached out for Harry's arm, but felt thin air. "What is it?"

Harry now saw the astute resemblance between father and son. The same blond hair and grey eyes. The same aristocratic features. The same blood. "I – I can't," Harry chocked out.

"You can't what?"

"I have – I have to go," Harry said, wrenching his eyes away from Draco's confused expression. He roved his eyes on the crowd, stopping a young girl who was randomly weaving through it. "Here's ten pence. Take him to the doctor," Harry said, pushing the coin into the ecstatic girl's hand.

"Harry, please, what is it?" Draco asked, his eyes wide with terror.

"I –" Harry stopped midsentence, stifling his words in his throat. "Goodbye," he said softly, walking away shakily.

Draco felt the panic growing in him until a small hand grasped his, leading him towards the hospital. And like an apparition of Draco's once fevered mind, Harry was gone when Draco was well again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I am not J.K. Rowling. This story is merely my way of saluting her. I do not own any of these characters; I just manipulate their thoughts.

**Summary**: Harlequin, meet Harry. Set in the late 1870's, this is a story about a lighthouse keeper who is content with the solitary life he leads until a shipwreck washes ashore a remarkable young man. As the keeper cares for the young man, his will to start living again rejuvenates, sprouting from admiration to adoration to love.

Alternate Universe. Non-Magic. Slash. Harry/Draco.

**A/N:** Thanks for the sweet reviews! You guys are the best! And **ryuuzaki17**, your wish is my command. Holy crap, I was dying because I laughed too much as I wrote this.

* * *

_Four years later…_

"Rose, please stop pes –" Ron's eyes grew wide as recognition struck. "H – Harry?"

Harry grinned, winking impishly.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed, throwing himself at Harry. "Hermione! Hermione!" he shouted, nearly deafening Harry in the process.

"What?" Hermione asked grumpily, pulling her hair into a loose ponytail. "I don't – wh – Harry – oh my god!" Her hand went up to her heart as she froze. "You're here… Oh my god, you're here!' she screamed, running up to Harry and hugging him fiercely.

Harry staggered back at the force of the embrace from his best friends. He hadn't realized how much he had missed them until he felt the tears running down his face. He buried his head in Hermione's shoulder. Ron was practically jumping with joy. Rose and Hugo hung back, watching their parents with wide eyes. "I missed you," Harry said, his voice muffled against Hermione.

"So don't leave," Hermione said firmly.

Harry didn't respond. He didn't know how to. He didn't know what he wanted to do anymore. So he just hugged to his heart's content. By the time the three broke apart, their eyes were red and their cheeks ached from grinning. They tried to look presentable as they faced the children.

"Rose, Hugo… This is Harry," Ron said proudly, clapping his hand on Harry's back.

"Harry – Potter?" Hugo asked in wonder.

"The very same," Ron said. "You know, Harry, you're quite famous these days."

"No more so than usual, I hope," Harry said.

"No, definitely more so than usual…" Ron said cheerfully.

Harry groaned.

* * *

"Mother, please stop fussing."

Narcissa ruffled indignantly. "I am supposed to fuss over him," she said, coddling young Scorpius on her lap.

"You fussed over me enough," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Look how I turned out."

"You turned out perfectly – handsome and charming as ever," Narcissa said, eyeing her son lovingly.

"I think Theo's choice words include full of myself and spoilt."

"Don't listen to him."

"He's not the on –" Draco stopped midsentence, wincing and rubbing his temple. "He's not the only one. Blaise's words are even worse. Nothing your ears should hear."

Narcissa tried to stop the concern show in her voice as she said, "My ears have heard more than you could imagine."

Scorpius started screaming bloody murder. Draco rolled his eyes. "Mother, whatever you are doing to him, he doesn't like it," he said, walking towards the sound.

Narcissa stopped pinching Scorpius' cheeks. "You didn't mind it," she said.

"He's not me," Draco said, laughing as his hand landed on Scorpius' head. The boy grabbed his father's fingers tightly, spluttering all over them. Draco picked him off of Narcissa's lap, cradling him. "He's going to be better than me," Draco said, feeling for Scorpius' cheek and planting a firm kiss on it. "I love you," he whispered into his son's ear.

Scorpius squirmed and giggled. "Love you," he answered, kissing Draco's nose.

Narcissa sighed. "You two melt my heart," she said dreamily.

"Mother," Draco muttered, rolling his eyes again.

* * *

"Travel?" Ron exclaimed in astonishment.

"Yes, travel," Harry said.

"Where?"

"Everywhere."

"Why?"

"No answer to why. I want to."

"Mental!" Ron exclaimed.

"I know. I have the money. I am still young. Might as well get some adventure and mystery before I die."

"I thought you were done with adventures."

"I thought I was too. I thought wrong."

"Hermione, talk him out of this."

Hermione sighed, sipping her tea thoughtfully. "It is his life, Ron. Not much we can do about it," she said. Harry smiled at her thankfully. "Besides, he's been cooped up in that lighthouse for years. We should be happy that he's out of there."

"Right, you should be happy," Harry said smugly.

"I'll be happy when you settle down," Ron grumbled.

"I don't have anyone to settle down with," Harry said bluntly.

Ron didn't mind the callous statement. "What was so wrong with Ginny?"

"Nothing. She wasn't right for me."

"Who _is_ right for you, then?"

"Apparently, no one."

Ron made a noise of frustration. "You are so infuriating," he said, angrily eating his pastry.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked.

"I was thinking start with Deauville, Normandy. It's close by."

"You don't know French."

"I'm sure I can scrape by," Harry said with a soft smile.

"When are you leaving?"

"Three days."

Ron straightened up. "But when are you coming back?"

"I don't know. A fortnight, perhaps."

"You just got here," Ron complained.

"Do you want to come with?"

Ron and Hermione blinked at each other. "Wh – what?" Hermione asked.

"Come with me. With the kids, of course."

"Just like that?" Ron asked.

"Spontaneous."

"For two weeks?"

"Yes."

"Mental!" Hermione exclaimed.

* * *

"Deauville? Why the hell would you go to that bloody posh beach?"

"Because I want to, goddamn it," Draco said good-naturedly, shoving Blaise.

"Like hell I'm coming with you."

"Please," Draco asked sweetly.

"I'm going to be stuck looking after that little snot-nosed bugger, aren't I?"

"I wouldn't dream of letting that little snot-nosed bugger get close to you," Draco lied happily.

"I'm not paying for it."

"That's fine."

"I'm not going to enjoy it."

"That's fine."

"I don't know French."

"Look at that! Neither do I!"

"Have you told Narcissa yet?"

Draco scoffed. "Do you really think I did? She won't let me get out of the house without supervision. Thinks I'm a bloody child."

"You are."

"I'm blind, not backwards."

"Same difference."

Draco had to quell the urge to stamp his foot. "I'm going whether you come with me or not."

"Like hell I'm letting you go alone."

Draco grinned.

* * *

Deauville was the hot spot for the rich and famous. The villas looked out into the calm sandy beaches. Sun bathers were aplenty and the atmosphere was that of a dream world, where everything was perfect and no one had a care in the world. The Weasleys' stared at the scene with bugged eyes. The boardwalk was filled with brilliantly dressed aristocrats. Flowers adorned the windows of the beautiful villas that overlooked the ocean. Soft music played from discreet speakers around the coastline. Small bistros bustled with chic crowds. Harry stopped in front of a white stone building with large oak double doors.

"This is us," he said.

Rose and Hugo gaped with open mouths at the house. Harry pushed the doors open to reveal the exquisitely decorated indoors.

"Bloody hell, Harry," Ron breathed, stepping into the foyer.

"Blood hell," Rose repeated, earning a swat on the head from Hermione.

Sharp, colorful paintings of flowers hung on the walls of the house. Grey furniture added elegance and warm Persian rugs were abundant. Each bedroom had its own en suite bath. The large canopied beds had wonderfully fluffed pillows and down blankets. The living room was massive, housing a piano and a black stone fireplace. The kitchen was stocked with meals and snacks, much to Ron and Hugo's delight. The bay windows looked out onto the boardwalk, where Hermione gazed in adoration at the number of shops and restaurants in sight.

"How much did this cost you?" Hermione asked incredulously, dragging her eyes towards Harry reluctantly.

Harry sighed dramatically. "I still have enough to last me one more meal."

Ron chuckled, eyeing the marble chessboard with envy. "Fancy a game?" he asked.

"You always win."

"We haven't played in years…"

Harry smiled at Ron's hopeful look. "Alright. Just make sure you win gracefully, not like in school," he said.

* * *

"Hell, Draco, you should have told me about these beautiful sun bathers!" Blaise said. Rachel punched his arm for that comment. "Ow!"

"Prick," she muttered.

"What? You are one of them," Blaise muttered.

"You're supposed to say that I'm the _most_ beautiful. Not just 'one of them'. Bloody arse."

"Please, think of the poor child," Draco said, holding out his son beseechingly.

"Right, right. Mind your language, Blaise," Rachel said.

Blaise opened his mouth to retort heatedly, but the look he got from his wife stopped him. "Fine," he said.

"Bloody arse!" Scorpius shouted happily. Blaise and Rachel were soon doubled over with laughter while Draco shook his head despondently.

"Look what you've done to my poor son…"

"Like you're any better," Blaise chuckled.

"Let's just sit here. I don't think I can walk after that," Rachel said shakily, throwing down her towels and books. The two men complied, sitting down on the warm sand. Draco ran his hands down the grains, marveling at the softness. "Draco, I reckon you need to work on your color. You are much too pale," Rachel said.

"It runs in the family," Draco said, smiling weakly. "Besides, nothing wrong with being pale. I don't tan, I burn."

"Pish posh! Everyone tans. You just need to know when to stop."

"You're making me into such a woman," Draco grumbled as Rachel pushed him down and made him lay flat on his back.

"Take your shirt off, my precious Nancy-boy."

"Really, Rachel! Not in front of Blaise!" Draco chided.

He heard Blaise scoff. "The day Rachel fucks you is the day I'll eat my shoes."

Draco bit his knuckles to keep from roaring with laughter. Rachel was now in the process of chasing Blaise down the beach. Scorpius waddled up to Draco and plopped down on his stomach. After recovering from being winded and trying not to choke to death with his laughs, Draco dragged his boy to his chest. "So, how do you like it?"

"I like it," Scorpius said bluntly.

"Good."

"I want to swim."

"We'll wait until Uncle Blaise gets back. He'll take you," Draco said, hugging his three year old tightly.

"You take me."

"Wish I could," Draco said, shrugging.

"I take you," Scorpius said insistently.

Draco chuckled. "Wish you could."

* * *

"It's like I died and went to heaven," Ron mused as he walked down the shoreline without any shoes on.

Harry laughed heartily at Ron's blissful comment. "We should come down here more often then!" he said.

"You'll be penniless in a matter of two years," Ron said.

"True. I will be utterly happy and penniless though."

"You're happy, Harry?" Ron asked, flicking his eyes at Harry quickly.

"Yes," Harry said firmly. "I think I am."

"Good."

Harry felt a tug on his slacks and he looked down at the pint sized blond boy with a million pound grin. Harry jerked his eyebrows at the boy. The boy shrugged, motioning for Harry to kneel down. Harry did so. The boy looked at him importantly, holding out his hand. "You, sir, are a bloody arse."

Ron practically fell on face. Harry gave a confused grin to the boy, shaking his hand. "Thank you?"

"You're welcome," the boy said proudly.

"And who might you be?"

"I'm a bloody arse!"

"Hmm…" Harry nodded in all seriousness. Ron was rolling on the beach at this, clutching his stomach.

"Scorpius, get back here you!" a tall woman ran up to Harry and the boy. She smiled beautifully at Harry and eyed Ron distastefully. "Sorry, he likes to run away," she said with an apologetic lilt. "He hasn't been trouble, has he?"

Harry chuckled. "Besides calling me a bloody arse, no trouble at all," he said, grinning at Scorpius.

"Wh – he did – hell, I'm going to – I mean, um, heck?" the woman blushed, biting her lip.

Now Ron seemed to be choking on his own tongue. Harry winked at the woman. "We're on holidays, swear all you want," he said.

The woman laughed, shaking her head. "It's alright if I swear, but if _he_ does, I'm dead," she said candidly, picking Scorpius up in her arms. She blinked at Harry, her eyes sliding up to his half-hidden scar then back to his face. She narrowed her eyes slyly, a soft smile on her lips. "You wouldn't happen to be Harry Potter, would you?" she asked, a twinkle in her eye.

Harry quickly flattened his hair over his forehead. "I – er – yes…"

"Brilliant!"

"Really?"

"Yes! Scorpius found Harry Potter. My husband is going to be thrilled when he hears this," the woman said excitedly. Harry blushed this time, mumbling nonsense. She laughed again. "I won't tell," she stage-whispered. "It was wonderful to meet you, Mr. Potter. Never knew you would be such a gentleman." With a small curtsy – which was unnecessary since she was in a bathing suit – and a smile, she sauntered off up the beach with Scorpius in her hands.

"That was – interesting…"

* * *

"So, guess who Scorpius ran into?"

"Who?" Blaise asked, shaking the sand out of his hair.

"The Boy-Who-Lived."

Blaise froze, his expression suspicious. He glanced at Scorpius, who was busy playing with Draco. Then he looked back at Rachel. "No, he didn't."

"Yes! I saw him myself!"

"Scar and all?"

"Yes, scar and all. Gorgeous man." Blaise rolled his eyes at Rachel. "Not as gorgeous as you, my darling," Rachel purred, planting a languid kiss on Blaise's lips.

"Good. I don't want the bloody Savior taking my one and only wife."

"Speaking of which, Scorpius called him a bloody arse."

Blaise sputtered. "Wh – what?"

"You heard me right. He called Harry Potter a bloody arse."

"No, he couldn't!" Blaise exclaimed in horror.

"It's alright. Mr. Potter just laughed it off. Hmm… Come to think of it, he winked at me…"

Blaise scowled, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I love it when you're jealous," Rachel grinned impishly.

"Don't tell Draco. He'll kill me."

"He'll kill me too. Our little secret," Rachel said, sealing it with a kiss.

* * *

The next day, Harry was helping Rose and Hugo wind their kites up when he felt a soft tugging on his shirt. He looked back at the small blond boy again – Scorpius. Ron was already starting to shake with laughter. Harry rolled his eyes at his best friend, turning to face the boy again. "Come to call me a bloody arse?" Harry asked with a smile.

"No. That's a bad word," Scorpius said ominously.

"Ah," Harry said in acknowledgement, nodding at Ron's red face. "It _is_."

"My name is Scorpius," Scorpius said with a smile.

"Well, I'm Harry."

"Arry…"

"Right."

"Arry," and with that Scorpius ran off.

"That boy is nothing but trouble," Ron said, laughing in full force now.

"At least he knows not to call me a bloody arse anymore," Harry said, laughing with Ron. Hermione made a noise of consternation as the children joined in.

Scorpius loped down the beach to where Blaise was standing. "Uncle Blaise! I met Arry!"

Blaise scooped up the hurtling toddler in his arms before his shins bore the brunt of the collision. "You met who?"

"Arry!"

"Alright then. Rachel's not going to be happy with you running off like that," Blaise said. "Especially if you're mee – wait, Arry… as in Harry?"

"Arry."

"You little devil!"

* * *

"Really, Draco? We come all this way for you to read your damned book?" Blaise asked as he sat down beside Draco. Draco was on his stomach, making very slow progress as he ran his hands across the translated book.

"This is taking me bloody forever to read," Draco groaned, dropping his head on the book tiredly.

"So, stop reading!"

"I need to learn. I can't just stop because I'm on a holiday."

"You never read on your other holidays."

"Prick," Draco mumbled, going back to running his fingers over the pages. "Damn it, lost my place. Blaise, quit interrupting."

Blaise rolled his eyes and mumbled something about doing heinous and explicit things to David Copperfield. Draco laughed him off, continuing his studious reading. Blaise sighed in frustration, wondering if hitting Draco will earn an appropriate response. Then he thought of something better. "So, you know that son of yours…"

"Hmm…"

"He's going around calling people bloody arses."

Draco's eyes widened with shock. He rolled over and sat up in a flash. "What?" he exclaimed.

"Good, now that you're up, let's go have some lunch."

"Wait, what?"

"It's nothing. I already told Scorpius off and he knows it's a bad word. I'm starving. Let's go."

"He – he called someone an arse?"

"You're such a prude," Blaise muttered, pulling Draco up to his feet.

"I don't believe this. My own son. He's turning into – _you_!"

This time Blaise decided to hit Draco, no matter the consequence.

* * *

"Scorpius, you do know that bloody arse is a bad thing to say, right?"

"Yes, Daddy," Scorpius said sullenly. He had already had this conversation with Rachel and he didn't know why Draco insisted on having another one.

"Did you apologize?"

Scorpius thought of lying. But when he looked up at his father's expectant face, he couldn't bear to lie. "I – I told him my name," Scorpius said.

"And…"

"And he told me his name."

"And…"

Scorpius shrugged. Draco waited with his hands in his pockets. When he realized that his son didn't have anything else to add, he sighed. "Well, next time you see him, apologize."

Scorpius pouted. "How?"

"Just say sorry."

"Sorry."

"Not to me. To him."

"Oh."

* * *

"Daddy," Scorpius whispered urgently. Draco knelt down, lending his ear. "He's over there."

"Who?"

"Arry."

"Who?"

"I have to say sorry to him, remember?"

"Oh, him. Right."

"Come with me," he said, tugging at his father.

"Alright," Draco said, getting up and letting his son tug him through along.

"Arry!" Scorpius yelled. Draco winced at his son's obliviousness to courtesy.

"Your adoring fan calls," Ron said, winking at Harry. Harry grinned, turning around. He froze, his grin slipping and his heart sinking.

"Hello!" Scorpius shouted, nearing Harry and Ron rapidly. "I have to say sorry," he exclaimed.

Ron nudged Harry, a chuckle escaping him at Scorpius' proclamation. Harry snapped out of his daze, looking down at Scorpius. He knelt on the ground. "For what?" he asked softly.

"For calling you a bl –" Draco coughed loudly. Scorpius smiled sheepishly. "Um, for calling you a you-know-what," he whispered.

"It's alright," Harry said, his eyes moving to Draco.

"He said it's alright, Daddy!" Scorpius said loudly.

Draco laughed. "Good to hear," he said. He glanced up at where he presumed 'Arry' stood. "I – er, he's usually not this callous. He's been with – bad company," Draco said with a small smile.

"He's very intelligent," Harry said.

Draco's brows furrowed into a confused expression, but the smile was still on his lips. "He is. Thank you for being so understanding, Mr. –"

Harry's trepidation grew tenfold. He felt like he was backed against a wall. And Ron pushed him into the lion's mouth. "It's Potter," Ron said.

The smile vanished from Draco's lips as recognition flared. "Mr. Potter," he said softly. He closed his eyes, trying to place the name and the voice. Then his eyes shot open, searching the emptiness wondrously. "H – Harry? Wh – what are you – how – Harry?" He reached out impulsively, his palm knocking against Harry's chest. He quickly ran it up to Harry's shoulder. A thrilled smile shone on Draco's face. "It _is_ you!" he laughed. He pulled Harry into a hug, reveling in the moment.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's waist unconsciously. He didn't know what else to do. He had hoped for this moment for years despite his conscious effort not to. And now, to be in Draco's arms was breaking down the defenses Harry had built over the past four years.

"I missed you," Draco whispered.

Harry's breath hitched. It was all he could do to keep from sobbing into Draco's shirt. He pulled away quickly, knowing that prolonged contact would just aggravate his overwrought emotions. Draco didn't seem to have that thought in mind. He wiped his tears, grinning at Harry and clutching his shoulder tightly. "You said you'd come with me. Then you just – you left. I didn't – that was rude!" Draco stammered, unsure of whether to keep being happy or whether to get angry.

"Sorry," Harry muttered.

"You say sorry for the oddest things," Draco said. "I told you not to come if you didn't want to. I'm just – you didn't let me say goodbye."

"I – I didn't –"

"It doesn't matter," Draco said quickly, sensing Harry's agitation. "I just can't believe you're _here_!"

"That's your son?"

Draco laughed. "Yes, he is!"

"You're here with your wife?"

Draco shrugged. "No. We – we aren't together," he said softly.

"Oh?"

"She wasn't ready for children," Draco continued.

"You weren't either," Harry said.

"I was wrong. Now I'm stuck forever with my little foul mouthed angel," he said, scooping Scorpius up in his arms. Scorpius giggled, kissing Draco's cheek softly.

"And your eyes…"

"Still blind," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

"Such a bother, isn't it?" Harry said, unable to stop himself.

Draco winked. "It is."

A soft cough brought both men back to the present. Ron was glancing back and forth from Harry to Draco in utter confusion. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Um… Ron, this is Draco. Draco, Ron."

Ron shook hands with Draco suspiciously. "How do you know him?" he asked Harry.

"On the island. His ship wrecked. I found him," Harry said.

Draco snorted derisively. "He saved my life, is what he did."

"You never told us!" Ron said accusingly.

"It was nothing," Harry mumbled, blushing.

"His modesty drives me mad!" Ron exclaimed to Draco, who nodded in agreement.

"So, what are you doing here?" Draco asked.

"Traveling. Took your advice," Harry said. His mind was preoccupied with the thought that if Ron found out who Draco really was, a bloodbath would ensue. He needed to get out of there as fast as he could.

"Good!" Draco said.

"Daddy, the beach!" Scorpius whined loudly.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"I – um… Right, er – Harry, did you want to go out for a drink sometime? Catch up on… life, I guess," Draco asked haltingly.

"Of course," Harry said quickly. "Um… tomorrow, five at Bar de Soleil?

"Perfect. See you then, Harry," Draco said with a grin.

"Until then…"

Draco let Scorpius lead the way to the beach while Harry and Ron stood on the boardwalk.

"Now, you have to tell me _everything_," Ron said eagerly.

Harry groaned, wrenching his eyes away from Draco's back. "I – I'll explain at the house," Harry said, not wanting to deal with Ron out in public.

"Let's go," Ron said, walking swiftly towards their villa. Harry straggled behind, trying to piece together a good enough explanation that didn't reveal too much. As he thought more about it, he realized that any explanation with the name Malfoy in it revealed too much. Once they were in the house, Ron was too excited to hear the story to sit down, even after Harry insisted that he do. Harry sighed tiredly, dropping onto the chair. "Start from the beginning!" Ron said.

"I think it'd be much better if I started at the end. That was Draco Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy's son."

"Malfoy?" Ron asked faintly. "Wh – what?"

"His son…"

Ron frowned. "How does he – that was – why did you – what?" he stammered, his thoughts overtaking his speech.

"I didn't know until afterwards."

"You saved Lucius Malfoy's son? After he – " Ron closed his eyes in frustration.

"I didn't know, Ron."

"But he – he just hugged you!"

"He doesn't – he doesn't know."

"Doesn't know?"

"He – he doesn't know what his father did."

"How the hell doesn't he know?" Ron fumed.

Harry sighed in exasperation. "I don't know why he doesn't know, Ron. I just wanted you to know that that was Draco Malfoy."

"He's Malfoy's son? He's nothing like Malfoy!"

Harry blinked. That was not the reaction he had expected. "What?"

"He just hugged you. Hell, he cried over you!"

"I – er…"

"He's your friend?"

"I – I guess…"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't – I didn't know how you would take it. I mean, I – when I found out I –"

"You left. That's what he was talking about, wasn't it? You left."

Harry sighed. "He talked me into leaving the island. But when I – when I found out, I just – I was terrified. I don't – I'm just –"

"Harry, what's wrong?" Ron asked in concern.

"Nothing, nothing's wrong."

"No, something is. He's the reason you're on this crazy traveling expedition."

"Well… yes, that's – when he – he talked about how I was… hiding, I guess I realized that he was right," Harry said.

"Hiding?"

"We – we talked a lot when we were in the lighthouse. We had nothing better to do. He told me that I should live by my rules. I realized he was right."

"So we have him to thank," Ron said, rolling his eyes.

"In a way, I suppose… Why are you so calm?"

Ron frowned in confusion. "Um… Why wouldn't I be?"

"He's Malfoy's son. I thought you – I don't know, I was just –"

"Look, Lucius Malfoy is a different person from… um – "

"Draco."

"Right, Draco. In fact, I'd think that Draco is nothing like his father. I mean, look at _his_ son, for heaven's sake!"

"His son…"

"And he's blind? How the hell is he taking care of that child?"

"He wasn't blind before. The shipwreck caused it. We thought it would just be temporary. It wasn't."

"Hmm… Did you – did you want to tell me anything else?" Ron asked.

"I – No."

"You know what your problem is? You _never_ tell me anything," Ron said, looking hurt.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Believe me, you don't want me to tell you anything," he muttered.

"Yes, I do," Ron insisted. "I had never seen you so flustered."

"I was just nervous."

"Understandably so."

"Yes, understandably so."

Ron stared at Harry for a beat. Then he shook his head in defeat, walking away. Harry dropped his head back and rubbed his eyes with his palms. Now he just needed to explain to Draco.

* * *

"Blaise, you will _not_ believe who I met!" Draco said excitedly as Blaise and Rachel joined him on the sand.

"Hmm?"

"Harry! From four years ago!"

"Who?"

"You know, the lighthouse keeper!" Draco laughed. "Scorpius called him a bloody arse… Imagine that!"

Blaise and Rachel glanced at each other with gaping mouths. "Harry… Potter?"

Draco grinned. "Yes, the very same. Amazing, isn't it?"

"Wait, Harry Potter was – he – lighthouse – he saved you?" Blaise stammered.

Draco frowned. "I – er… Yes. I mean, you met him, remember?"

"Bloody hell, Draco!" Rachel breathed in wonder.

"What?" It was times like these that Draco wished his sight would just come back. He was so used to reading people's expressions and body language. Now all he had to go by were their words – which often masked their true emotions.

"Draco, he's the Boy-Who-Lived!" Blaise said in astonishment.

"The who?"

"You know, what everyone's been talking about. The boy who killed Riddle."

Draco's mind reeled. "H – Harry?"

"_Yes_!" Rachel exclaimed in excitement. "I can't believe you know him! Introduce me!"

"Wait, Harry killed Riddle?" Draco asked in shock.

"I can't believe he didn't tell you!" Blaise said.

"I – I mean, yes, he told me. Just not – not in –" Draco stammered, piecing together the conversations he had had with Harry. "Father…"

Blaise hardened at Draco's hesitant tone. "Your bloody father managed to almost get him killed," he said harshly. Draco flinched away instinctively, closing his eyes. Rachel gave Blaise a furious glare. He glanced over it. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if your _father_ killed some of his friends," Blaise spat out vehemently.

"Blaise, enough," Rachel hissed.

_"You are – Lucius Malfoy's… son?"_

Draco started to feel nausea well up inside him. "I didn't know," Draco said softly. "I – before he left, he… he left when he found out."

"You are so damn oblivious to everything, Draco," Blaise muttered.

"He – he must hate me," Draco said in horror.

Rachel gently clasped her hand over Draco's. "Why would he hate you?" she asked softly. "You didn't do anything."

"But Father – what he did –"

"You are not Lucius."

"He doesn't know that."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Any blind idiot would know that," he said.

"So why did he leave?" Draco asked miserably.

"Ask him…"

* * *

Harry was idly running his finger down the grains of the table in the bar. He had ordered himself a scotch and was in the process of nursing it when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to face Blaise. Harry nearly fell off his stool at the sudden appearance of the man. He steadied himself on the table, blushing. "Good evening."

"You – are – Harry – bloody – Potter?" Blaise asked.

Harry winced. He looked over Blaise's shoulder and found Draco rolling his eyes in exasperation. "I – yes, I am," Harry stammered.

"And you didn't think to tell us that because…"

Harry looked at Blaise's murderous expression with trepidation. "It – I didn't – it wasn't important?"

"How the hell is it not important? You're the bloody Boy-Who-Lived!"

Harry pursed his lips. "Look, I'm not a boy who anything, alright? I'm just Harry," he said.

"And that's just Draco, alright?" Blaise said darkly.

"R – right…"

"Blaise!" Draco exclaimed in obvious embarrassment. "I'm not a child!"

Blaise eyed Harry suspiciously for a second longer before turning to Draco. "I'll be back in two hours," he said sullenly, glaring at Harry one last time before storming out of the bar. Harry stared after him, stunned. He was pulled out of his astonishment when Draco coughed uncomfortably.

"Oh, sorry," Harry said, getting off of his stool and leading Draco to his before sitting down again. "Um… hello."

"Look, don't – Blaise is mental, that's all. Don't mind him," Draco said, blushing slightly.

"It's quite hard not to mind him, isn't it?" Harry said in amusement.

Draco grinned. "It is. Try not to mind him, then," he said.

"Hmm…"

Draco's grin died down as the silence grew. "Um… Harry, I – I didn't know. About – about what Father had done," he said. Harry's mouth fell open in astonishment. "I understand if you – if you don't want to see me again. I just… I didn't know," Draco said faintly.

"No, it wasn't – it's not you, Draco," Harry said. "I was confused. And angry, I guess. It all happened too fast. I mean, I heard the name and all I could think of was - and I was such a prick. I mean, I know you aren't anything like your father. I panicked. I know, I owe you a better explanation... And then today, Ron was perfectly fine when I told him about you. He didn't rant and rave like I had expected him to. He said that you were nothing like Lucius, and I knew he was right. And I started to think why I wasn't fine when I heard your name that day. I - I'm sorry for leaving you there," he rambled.

"Then I'll apologize for whatever shit my father did to you."

"No, don't apologize. I - you didn't know. I didn't tell you. It's just - never mind what happened. We'll start anew."

"You don't hate me, do you?"

Harry laughed incredulously. "Of course not! I love you. I thought _you_ would hate _me_!"

Draco heaved a sigh of relief. "Good. No, great!" He couldn't see Harry go pale as a ghost. He couldn't see Harry's fingers tightening around the glass. He couldn't see Harry's eyes glazing over. "What are the chances that we would meet here? It's remarkable," Draco said. Harry gazed at Draco with a foggy mind. He had just understood that it wasn't just infatuation. Everything about Draco drew Harry in – his smile, his eyes, his words… Harry was in love with Draco. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch Draco's hand. Harry almost jumped out of his skin when Draco enveloped Harry's hand in his. "Harry?" Draco said, squeezing Harry's fingers. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Harry looked up from Draco's hand to his concerned face. "Yes," he said quickly, swallowing the rest of his scotch in one gulp. "Yes."

"I just want to make sure you aren't angry with me," Draco said cheekily.

"I'm not."

"You've been so quiet."

"Thinking."

Draco winked. "Fine, be angry."

"Do you _want_ me to be angry with you?"

"No."

"Well, then. Stop instigating it."

Draco laughed. "How I missed you, Mr. Potter," Draco said.

"Harry will do."

"Of course it will."

Harry's heart swelled with euphoria at being so close to Draco, to have Draco touch his hand. "How old is your son?"

"Three."

"He called me a bloody arse."

Draco laughed helplessly. "I did _not_ teach him that. I shouldn't let him run around Blaise and Rachel anymore."

"Handful, isn't he?"

Draco smiled lovingly. "Yes, he is. Keeps my mind off of – other things."

"Like your eyes."

"Like my eyes."

"You can't see at all?"

"Glimpses, like before. More frequently, I suppose. I just can't focus on anything. It's a pain."

"Because of the headaches."

"Yes."

The evening wore on. Harry learnt that Astoria had left a year after she gave birth. Draco had separated amicably with her. She did not want the marriage or the child. She couldn't take care of a blind husband. Draco was indifferent about the marriage, but had grown strangely attached to Scorpius. So he found himself in the situation he was in. Draco learnt that Harry had returned to the lighthouse for another two years before venturing out into the world. He had stopped off in all the provinces in Canada before finally reaching England, where he saw his friends after fourteen long years. And now here they were. Harry found that Draco liked to keep contact with the person he was talking to, almost as though to make sure they wouldn't leave before he wanted them to. Harry let Draco gently nudge his hand or tap his foot. Harry wished he could do more than just let his hand get nudged and his foot get tapped.

Blaise had stopped by two hours later, but he didn't approach the table. He watched Draco talk animatedly with Harry, punctuating every other sentence with a chuckle. Draco's eyes were lit and his hands were moving rapidly. Blaise hadn't seen Draco so excited since before his sight had gone. Blaise realized that the men wouldn't be done talking for a while, so he let them be. It was nine at night when Blaise finally got tired of waiting. He dragged Rachel and Scorpius into the bar, slapping on the table with his hands. Draco stumbled off of his stool in fright. "Four bloody hours. That's enough catching up. We're hungry," Blaise complained.

"Blaise!" Rachel chided. She smiled charmingly at Harry. "Mr. Potter, it's a pleasure," she said primly.

"Likewise," Harry said, grinning at Rachel.

"Arry!" Scorpius gurgled, trying to clamber onto Harry's lap.

"Scorpius, get off of him," Rachel muttered.

Harry laughed, picking Scorpius up and sitting the boy on his lap. "It's fine. He looks so much like you, Draco."

"I've heard," Draco said pensively. Harry knew that Draco was wishing he could see his son's face.

"Did you want to have some dinner with us?" Harry asked.

"Who are us?" Blaise asked.

"My friends, their two children, and me."

"We don't want to impose," Draco said.

"No imposition. We have too much food."

"You can never have too much food," Blaise said.

"You'd get along perfectly with Ron, then," Harry grinned.

"Thank you for the invitation. We would love to," Rachel said graciously.

"Give me an hour. The villa is on the promenade. Can't remember the number. It has white stone. I'll be outside, so you can tell which one it is," Harry said. "See you then."

* * *

"Of course, landing on his arse isn't going to stop him from trying to strangle me," Blaise said, rolling his eyes at Draco. Ron and Harry were guffawing loudly at Draco's murderous expression.

"Anyone would want to strangle you," Draco muttered, eating his bread.

"I will have to agree with him on that," Harry said, still chuckling.

The dining room was alive with candlelight and laughs. Scorpius was bouncing happily on Draco's lap, stealing pieces of chicken from his plate. Rachel and Hermione were getting along marvelously. The men were having no trouble poking fun of the one blind and helpless man in the room. Food was aplenty, just as Harry had promised. Sliced chicken and honey ham were placed around the table with baskets of garlic bread and glasses of wine. Rose and Hugo were practically falling asleep in their chairs as it was past their bedtime. Eventually, Hermione took pity on them, sending them off to their warm beds. By the time dessert rolled in, Scorpius was fast asleep, nestled against Draco's chest, and the conversation had died down to a soft lull. Ron and Blaise were furiously debating about cricket teams they wager would win the test matches. Hermione and Rachel were contemplating on how to best spend the next day by laying out strategic plans to shop at all stores in the boardwalk. Which left Harry and Draco to slowly finish their caramel apple pies in peace.

After dessert, Harry and Hermione quickly cleaned up the table, ushering their guests into the drawing room where everyone sat down blissfully on the couches. After-dinner coffee was passed around. Blaise agreed to Ron's challenge, and the two men settled beside the large chessboard, evil glints in their eyes. Draco nudged Harry's arm, drawing his attention. "I need some air. Could you…" Draco asked, tilting his head.

"Of course," Harry replied, getting up. "Um, did you want to leave Scorpius here?"

"I – um, yes," Draco said hesitantly. "Rachel," he said softly.

"Yes?"

"Hold him for a bit, will you?"

"That's fine," Rachel said, gently taking Scorpius from Draco's lap and placing the boy on hers. Harry helped Draco up and they walked out of the villa, into the warm breezy night.

Draco heaved in a deep breath. "Sorry, I was starting to feel claustrophobic," he said. Harry made a murmur of nonchalance. Draco's hand dropped from Harry's shoulder to his elbow. "I don't want to walk behind you," Draco muttered irritably.

"No harm in walking beside me," Harry said with a slight smile. The boardwalk was almost empty. A few couples sat on the benches, watching the romantic moon and stars. "Did you just want to wander aimlessly?" Harry asked.

"I always wander aimlessly," Draco said with a shrug. "No exception tonight."

"I guess not."

They walked in silence, lost in thought. "It's funny. I've stopped traveling and you've just started," Draco said sadly.

Harry heard the contemplative tone in Draco's voice. "Do you wish you could travel again?" he asked.

Draco shook his head. "That's not – I meant that you'll be gone in a week."

"Oh," Harry blinked. "Right."

"I'm glad you are off of the island. It's not forever, is it?"

"I don't know yet. Maybe, when I feel like hiding away, I'll always have the lighthouse."

"Yes, you will."

Draco sighed. "I'm glad I got to meet you again, Harry. There's so much I hadn't told you. I'm glad I have a chance to do it right now," he said.

Harry waited for Draco to continue. Draco stopped, turning to face Harry. He took a deep breath. "Thank you for saving my life. Thank you for taking care of me. Thank you for being patient. Thank you for agreeing to come with me. Thank you for making me feel better. And thank you for being there for me when I needed you."

Harry gazed up into Draco's solemn eyes, trying to memorize it. He wanted to keep this memory forever. It was perfect. The moonlight played up Draco's features, glistening his hair and softening his face. "You're welcome," he said.

Draco smiled weakly. "I wish –" he started saying before a pang of pain shot into his head. He flinched away, his grip on Harry's elbow tightening. "Sorry," he muttered, trying to steel his mind. When the pain dulled, he shook his head slightly. "Just one of ..." he said, trailing off when he opened his eyes. A flicker passed in front of him. He blinked, trying to keep the light in his eyes. He frowned slightly, narrowing his eyes. Then it was gone. It faded to black.

Harry watched Draco's episode nervously, unsure of what to do. Draco blinked at him in confusion. "You…" Draco murmured, his hand leaving Harry's elbow and traveling up to his shoulder and then to his cheek. "Green…" he breathed, his fingers touched Harry's chin lightly. "You have green eyes."

Harry held his breath as Draco's fingers moved across his face, gently feeling the ridges and bones. He suppressed his shivers when Draco touched his eyelids and moved fingers along his lashes. He let out his breath slowly as Draco grazed his lips with his thumbs, tracing it. "Brilliant green eyes," Draco said, his palms finally resting on Harry's cheek. Draco smiled sadly, dropping his hands from Harry's face.

Harry opened his eyes to look at Draco's ghost of a smile and his blank eyes. Harry's hand shook as he placed it on Draco's shoulder. He leaned up, feeling Draco's warm breath against his face. "I love you," Harry whispered. His lips captured Draco's fluidly. His hand moved from Draco's shoulder to his neck, caressing the hair with his fingers. His other arm wound around Draco's waist, pulling him closer. Harry felt Draco tensing against him, but he didn't want to stop. This would be their first and last kiss. Draco could hate him after this. But this moment was perfect. And Harry would cherish it for a lifetime.

"Harry," Draco murmured into Harry's lips.

"I love you so much," Harry breathed.

"My arm…"

Harry opened his eyes, blinking away the haze. He looked down and found Draco's arm trapped against Harry's, which was wound around Draco's waist. Harry let go quickly. Draco pulled his arm free and wound it around Harry's back, dragging him up. Harry gasped as Draco's mouth blindly sought his own. Draco let out a low moan into Harry as he found Harry's wet lips. "I wasn't sure," Draco said rapidly. "I didn't know if you – I love you too, Harry," he whispered, hungrily tasting Harry for the first time.

Harry felt his whole body tremble against Draco. He had nothing more to hide. Draco knew everything. And Draco accepted everything. Harry groaned as he felt tears running down his face. Draco broke away when he tasted the salt in the kiss. "Harry, is it – are you alright?" he asked.

Harry nodded, then realized that Draco couldn't see. "Yes, sorry," he said thickly and he placed his wet cheek against Draco's chest, feeling the heart beat.

"You say sorry for the oddest things," Draco muttered, pulling Harry away from him and placing his palms on Harry's cold cheeks. He brought Harry's lips up for a kiss that almost made Harry swoon. There was so much passion and love in the kiss that Harry didn't know how to respond. He simply ran his hands up Draco's chest and clutched the shirt, trying to keep himself from floating away. Draco flicked his tongue over Harry's lips, eliciting a sharp intake of breath. Harry had never been kissed this way before. He was lost in Draco's fervor and all he could do was moan weakly as Draco's tongue touched his determinedly. It all felt so real yet so dreamlike. Draco's tongue slowly took over all of Harry's senses. Harry stood on the boardwalk under the moon, weak-kneed. Draco kissed Harry's breath away. He pulled away from Draco, gasping for air and failing to inhale anything. His throat was closing up from the adrenaline.

"Breathe."

Harry dropped his head on Draco's shoulder as he gulped in the air.

"Breathe."

Harry's arms wrapping around Draco's as his lungs shuddered painfully.

"Breathe."

Harry nodded, turning his head and planting helpless kisses on Draco's neck, his breath coming out in shallow gasps.

"Breathe."

"Yes."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I am not J.K. Rowling. This story is merely my way of saluting her. I do not own any of these characters; I just manipulate their thoughts.

**Summary**: Harlequin, meet Harry. Set in the late 1870's, this is a story about a lighthouse keeper who is content with the solitary life he leads until a shipwreck washes ashore a remarkable young man. As the keeper cares for the young man, his will to start living again rejuvenates, sprouting from admiration to adoration to love.

Alternate Universe. Non-Magic. Slash. Harry/Draco.

**A/N:** Thanks for sticking with the story! You guys are the reason why I write.

-x-

They stood under the moon for what seemed like an eternity. Harry's arms were around Draco's neck and Draco's arms were around Harry's waist. Their breaths came together as they stood silently. Harry never wanted to leave. He breathed in Draco's cologne, feeling giddy and intoxicated. Draco gently squeezed Harry at random intervals when his chest felt too full of happiness.

Draco sighed into Harry's hair. "I never imagined…"

Harry smiled. "This is all I imagined…"

"How did this happen?" Draco groaned, his arms tightening around Harry possessively.

"I missed you too."

"How are we…"

"I don't know."

"It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter at all," Draco said firmly.

After another eternity, they decided to head back to their friends. "What do we tell them?" Harry asked nervously.

"Nothing?" Draco asked hopefully.

"Nothing sounds great," Harry murmured.

"They won't understand."

Harry knew Draco was right. The reality of their situation was descending up on them. Harry didn't understand it himself. A man loving another man was blasphemous, even in non-religious sectors. Harry didn't see Draco as a man he loved. To him, Draco was Draco, just a person who understood him and made him happy. He had pondered his emotions about Draco for over four years. He knew what he had felt wasn't natural because society deemed it unnatural. Men were hanged because of their improper sexuality until twenty years ago. Now men were incarcerated for having a relationship with another man. Homosexuality was a disease – a disease that infested the mind. Harry had tried not to think about it for years. He didn't want to be labeled. He couldn't help who he fell in love with, be it man or woman. And he was scared.

"Harry, it's alright," Draco said softly, squeezing Harry's hand in reassurance.

"How?"

"We'll move away. Far away. No one will find us," Draco said with a dreamy smile.

Draco's naiveté hadn't blown over. It was still black and white for him. "Scorpius…" Harry said.

"We will take him with us, of course," Draco explained.

"It's not that simple. You have family. And our friends… We can't just disappear."

"What else _can_ we do?"

"I – I don't know," Harry said helplessly. Harry had never thought about what would happen if Draco reciprocated. Harry's dreams always ended with the kiss. That was all. No running and no hiding. It was always just the two of them sealing their love with a kiss. But now, it was real. So real that Harry was starting to panic. "If anyone finds out, they might – I can't –"

"They won't hurt you," Draco said, trying to quell Harry's fears.

"That's not – they might – what if they take you away? I don't want them to take you away."

Draco groaned at Harry's fearful tone. "Please, Harry, don't. We'll think of something. Just – we will be fine," Draco said.

Harry was silent as he led Draco down the boardwalk. He didn't want to think. He just wanted to be. Be with Draco, be carefree, and be happy. "We're here, mind the steps," Harry said.

"Three hundred and twenty seven."

"Hmm?"

"Your lighthouse. It has three hundred and twenty seven steps."

Harry smiled in wonder. "You counted?"

"Yes. Now you can sleep at night," Draco said playfully.

"I can," Harry echoed.

They stood on the landing, unwilling to go inside. Harry sighed and was about to open the door when Draco pulled him away, crushing him in a tight embrace. "Whatever happens, you know I love you," Draco said.

"I know."

Draco let go of Harry as suddenly as he had enveloped him. Harry staggered back, dazed. He recovered a few moments later, taking calming breaths. Draco smoothed his hand over his hair. "Do I look presentable?" he asked Harry.

"When don't you?" Harry said warmly with a grin. "Do I?"

Draco smiled. "Let's see," he said, feeling the air in front of him and landing his hands on Harry's hair. He brushed it back. It flopped forward. He frowned and pushed it back again. It refused to stay put. "What's wrong with your hair?"

"Um… It's hopeless."

"Hmm," Draco said, trying one last time to comb it back with his fingers. He sighed when it fell haphazardly around his hands after he let go. "It _is_ hopeless," he said, moving one hand down Harry's forehead. His finger traced the scar with his finger. "This is…"

"A scar."

Draco nodded, leaving his finger over the scar. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against Harry's forehead. Harry stood stock-still, his head tilted up at Draco's careful inspection. Draco's hand that was tangled in Harry's hair was feeling the texture slowly. Draco's other hand made its way from Harry's scar to his nose, running down it lightly. Draco touched his lips against the bridge of Harry's nose. Then his hand traveled down to Harry's cheek where Harry felt another kiss. His chin got a hint of lips and his other cheek got more than a hint. Draco's fingers moved to Harry's lips. Harry smiled. Draco grinned as he felt the lips moving under him. He traced Harry's curved mouth.

"You have a wonderful smile," Draco whispered.

"Yours is much better," Harry murmured against Draco's fingers.

"Perhaps," Draco replied, kissing Harry's lips softly. Even the light touch was threatening to cause Harry to drop, so he clung to Draco's arms and held himself up.

Draco broke away slowly, so slowly that Harry wasn't even aware of it. "I think you look quite presentable now," Draco said. Harry opened his eyes and stared into Draco's loving smile.

"I'd wager that I don't," Harry breathed, feeling the blush on his cheeks and ears. He touched his lips gently with a smile. "I think I'm dreaming," he said, clutching Draco's hand and intertwining his fingers in them.

"Then I'm glad I'm in it," Draco said.

Harry laughed, opening the door.

"About bloody time. Thought you two had decided to swim all the way to London," Blaise said loudly from the drawing room.

Draco scoffed as Harry led him into the room. "And leave Scorpius with _you_? Not a chance," he said.

Harry marveled at Draco's steady voice and calm tone. Harry didn't think he would be able to talk for an entire week after what happened. He just took to smiling uneasily.

"Shall we go?" Rachel asked, holding Scorpius close to her as she got up.

"Yes, let's," Blaise said. "Especially since I'm _clearly_ winning," he added.

Ron scowled. "I still have a few chances," he muttered.

"Then we'll continue this tomorrow. You must be tuckered out after being chased around in circles," Blaise said smugly.

Ron's scowled deepened. "Yes, we'll continue this tomorrow," he said darkly. Hermione and Rachel laughed at their husbands' antics.

The party went into the foyer to say their goodnights. Draco squeezed Harry's hand reassuringly. "Goodnight. Thank you all for the wonderful evening," he said eloquently.

"Our pleasure," Hermione said graciously.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Harry," Draco said with a warm smile.

"Yes," Harry murmured.

-x-

"Mother, this is Harry Potter. Harry, Narcissa Black."

Harry smiled faintly at Narcissa, taking her hand and brushing his lips against the knuckles. His mild body language was in direct opposition with his trembling heart. Narcissa was a formidable woman. Her pale blond hair was curled loosely and her blue eyes shone with knowledge. Harry could spot the family resemblance. She was tall for a woman. Her beauty betrayed her age. Nobility radiated from Narcissa.

"Shall we?" Draco asked.

"Yes," Narcissa said.

As the evening progressed, Harry started to get more relaxed in the large manor while Narcissa continued to grow more uncomfortable. When Draco had told her about Harry, Narcissa was less than cordial. She did not understand why Harry Potter would even venture into a friendship with Draco. The hurt ran deep. It was, after all, the fault of the Potters for wrenching her family apart. Riddle's plans for revenge had started to seep into Narcissa's marriage with Lucius. As the years progressed, Lucius had started obsessing over Harry. It was only natural that the animosity he felt for Harry would flow over to Narcissa. Narcissa knew how wrong it was to feel that way. Harry was a child. When she overheard about the plans to kill the boy for petty revenge, she was torn between loyalty to her husband and disgust over the wrongful acts being done by her husband. The day Riddle was killed, Lucius left. This was over fifteen years ago.

Now here he was, sitting in _her _living room and eating _her _food. And all Narcissa could think of doing was to look for Harry's ulterior motive. There had to be one. Why else would Harry Potter be dining in the Malfoy Manor? Why else would Harry Potter be friendly to her family? How could this young gentleman have garnered the wrath of Tom Riddle?

Draco was laughing… Narcissa gazed at her son. She hadn't heard the carefree laugh since Draco was a child. She hadn't seen the small dimple on his cheek since before Lucius left. She hadn't noticed Draco's expressive hands since his accident four years ago. Draco was laughing…

Narcissa silently watched the two men converse. Her thoughts grew more muddled as the hours progressed. They seemed to be able to talk forever. They talked about music, books, past years, friends, sports – anything and everything. Narcissa felt like an outsider who was merely watching Harry and Draco.

Most men shrunk away when Draco held out his hand for a touch. Most men shifted back when Draco moved his knee to make contact. Narcissa knew why her son did this. It was because he wanted to make sure the person he was conversing with was really there. Draco didn't want to be talking and then realize suddenly that he was talking to no one. That was lunacy and that was what Draco was most afraid of. Most men held back, standing further away from Draco than was appropriate. Draco never noticed. He couldn't judge distances. But Narcissa had always felt enraged that Draco's peers and colleagues distanced themselves from him, both physically and, more often that not, emotionally.

Harry met Draco's hand. Harry pressed into Draco's knee.

This was Harry Potter's ulterior motive…

"Mother, what do you think?" Draco asked conversationally, smiling at where Narcissa was sitting.

Narcissa blinked. "I think… You're in love with him."

The change was visible. Color drained from Harry's cheeks. Draco's mouth hung open. Harry let his hand fall from Draco's shoulder. Draco shifted, moving his body away from Harry. "W – what?"

"And he knows…" Narcissa murmured, tilting her head slightly as she flicked her eyes between Harry and Draco.

"N – Mother, you're embarrassing me!" Draco said, trying to cover up his terror with an odd laugh.

"You can't lie to me, Draco," Narcissa said, getting up from her chair. "Especially not about this."

"W – we aren't in –"

"Is that why you brought him here? To see if I approve?"

"Mother, please! That's not –"

"Because this – this scum is the reason we are in this situation," Narcissa spat out.

Both men looked stricken at the woman's words.

"Because he is the reason your father left. He is the reason I had to raise you on my own. You disgust me," she hissed. "He has poisoned your mind. He is nothing but a manipulative man out for revenge. And you, Draco, were naïve enough to –" Narcissa broke off, her emotions too frayed.

Draco's anger was rising with his mother's. "You have _no_ right to –"

"No right?" Narcissa asked incredulously. "You tell me you love a _man_ and I have no right? What did he do to you?"

"He saved my –"

"And _you_," Narcissa said, interrupting Draco's pleas and turning to face Harry's pale face. "_You_ are a home wrecker. _You_ are a good-for-nothing. _You_ will leave my son alone. If I _ever_ – Don't you dare – You are worse than scum."

A resounding slap reverberated in the room. Harry reeled as he felt the sharp sting on his cheek. Narcissa was seething with anger and she didn't notice the pain in her palm. Draco was clutching the sofa with white knuckles as his overloaded mind tried to process it all. Narcissa waited for Harry's outburst.

"I – I should go," Harry murmured breathlessly. He staggered to his feet, his breath coming out in ragged spurts. His eyes instinctively flicked towards Narcissa.

Narcissa had been expecting anger and murder in his eyes. She nearly flinched when she saw pain and sadness in the deep green. Before she could look further, Harry had pulled his gaze to the floor. "I – I won't – I'm sorry," he said quietly. "Goodbye…"

Draco was drowning in the darkness. Everything sounded hollow. His mind moved too sluggishly. He heard the soft goodbye and he couldn't respond. All he could do was hear his heart beating and his breath moving. When the familiar hand caressed his hair, he was brought back. "What did you do?" he breathed, twisting his head away from Narcissa's hand. "How could you? He – I – oh god…" He scrambled off of his seat. He felt light headed from the panic.

"He won't come back."

Draco stumbled at Narcissa's firm words. "What?"

"He won't hurt us again."

Draco felt unwanted tears filling his eyes at the ominous words. "You – you hit him… _You_ hurt _him_," Draco said, trying to hold in his emotions.

"Before he could hurt you."

"He has _never_ hurt me," Draco growled, turning towards his mother. "How dare you? He has been nothing but good to me. And you –"

"He has been nothing but good to you?" Narcissa scoffed. "He seduced you. He is the worst of his kind. He deserves to die."

"He saved my life!" Draco said loudly, terrified at his mother's emotions.

"Why do you think he did?"

"Wh – why? There is no _why_! He loves me!" Draco said helplessly as he tried to reason with Narcissa.

"He loves you? You are still a child, Draco. You don't understand how this world works."

"_I_ don't understand? Do you have any notion of what Father did to him?" Draco nearly yelled in anger. "Do you know what Harry has been through? You have no – He has a bigger heart than anyone I know. And you just – oh god, you – I need to – I have to go," Draco stammered, feeling his way across the room.

"You are not going anywhere," Narcissa said as she swiftly grabbed hold of Draco's arm.

"You think he's worse than scum? No, Mother. _We_ are," Draco said vehemently, wrenching his arm out of Narcissa's grip. That was when the crippling migraine throbbed between Draco's eyes. Adding to the emotional turmoil, it was more than Draco could stand. He whimpered and fell to his knees, tears flowing freely now. He clutched his hands to his head, willing the pain to stop. He needed to find Harry. He needed to apologize. He couldn't succumb to the pain. But the pain worsened as he thought of Harry. He didn't hear Narcissa's worried words. He didn't feel Narcissa's grip. He couldn't think of anything but the migraine and Harry's hushed goodbye. With a trembling moan, Draco fell into his ever-present darkness.

-x-

" – just over-worked."

" – rest for a few days."

"He will be right as a fiddle."

Draco jerked awake, his arms flailing in front of him as the terrible feeling of dropping into the abyss made his stomach plunge. His soft gasps echoed in the dark.

"He's awake," Blaise's relieved voice broke into Draco's consciousness.

_Awake, alone and blind_. Draco let Blaise pull him into a rough hug. He let the tears flow on their own accord. He let his lids fall shut uselessly over his blank irises. He didn't want any of this.

"Scared us stiff," Blaise laughed into Draco's ear.

He had hurt Harry. And now Harry was gone. He didn't even let Draco say goodbye…

"How's your head?" Blaise asked, letting go of Draco and holding him out at an arm's reach. He was slightly disconcerted at the tears on Draco's cheeks. "Hmm?" he asked, frowning at Draco's blank and serene expression.

Would he come back like last time? Draco hoped against hope that Harry would. Why wouldn't his tears stop?

"Draco?"

Maybe Harry had been right. Maybe Harry should never have left the lighthouse. None of this would have happened. Neither man would have known what love was like.

"You alright?" Blaise asked, gently patting Draco's wet cheek.

Was Draco supposed to hate Harry like Narcissa said? Was it all Harry's fault? Draco knew it wasn't. How could it possibly be Harry's fault? He was the victim. Was it Draco's fault?

Blaise was now shaking Draco lightly. "Draco, please…"

Maybe it was. Tears kept rolling. Draco had been selfish. He had made Harry leave. He had given Harry hope. He had hurt Harry beyond belief. Harry hated him.

Blaise heard the soft moan escape Draco's lips. Blaise's heart rattled in his chest. Draco looked broken and Blaise didn't know how to fix him. "Narcissa," he called out, panicking.

How could he have been so gullible? How could he have thought that Narcissa would welcome Harry with open arms as Scorpius had? How could he have subjected Harry to such humiliation? Harry hated him.

The moan turned to shallow sobs. Narcissa froze at the doorway when she saw the scene. Draco was sagging in Blaise's arms and Blaise's expression was that of sheer terror. "Draco?" Narcissa said shakily.

Harry had known. Harry had known and he had tried to tell Draco. But Draco had had his head stuck in the clouds. He had been adamant about Harry meeting Narcissa. And Harry, being Harry, had agreed merely to appease Draco. Harry was right. Draco shouldn't have brought him. Harry hated him.

The sobs were now causing Draco to gasp for air as it increased in intensity. Narcissa was holding Draco tight against her, feeling his every tremble and choking breath. She looked at Blaise helplessly, tears in her own eyes.

_Awake, alone and blind…_ "He hates me," Draco breathed into Narcissa's shoulder as he lost his thoughts and fell asleep against her embrace.

-x-

"What happened?" Blaise asked, sitting on the chair in the dining room.

Narcissa sighed, shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Disgrace…" she muttered.

"What?" Blaise asked sharply.

"It is not even worth talking about."

Blaise blinked at Narcissa. "Of course it's worth talking about! What's wrong with him?" he asked in disbelief.

"He has let Potter manipulate him to no end."

Now Blaise was thoroughly confused. "_Harry_ Potter?"

"Absolute disgrace…"

"Narcissa, what happened?" Blaise asked carefully.

"I am so disgusted, I don't even – it's not worth repeating."

"What did Potter do?" he asked, sitting on the edge of his seat.

Narcissa shuddered. "I'm keeping this between Draco and myself," she said curtly.

Blaise exhaled forcefully. "Something is wrong and I need to know. Draco was – he – I've never… Please, we need to know what to do," Blaise tried to reason.

"Draco will heal and come to his senses in the morning."

"H – heal? Wh – what did Harry do to him?" Blaise gasped.

"All Mr. Potter did was hurt Draco beyond a shadow of a doubt."

That was all Blaise needed to hear. He pushed back his chair in anger and stormed out.

-x-

Blaise's rage faltered when he was met with Harry's defeated figure and bloodshot eyes. It took Harry a few moments to register who his visitor was. "Blaise… Wh – what are you doing here?" Harry asked softly.

"Are you alright?" Blaise asked impulsively.

"I – I'm –" Harry stammered, choking on his words. Then he seemingly shook the thoughts out of his head and straightened up. "Y – yes, of course," he said.

Blaise let out a low growl of exasperation. "Why the fuck is everyone lying to me?" he asked, glowering at Harry.

Harry took a step back at Blaise's statement. "I – what are you doing here?" he resorted to asking instead of answering.

"I want to know what you did."

Harry's heavy mind was slow to process what Blaise was talking about. "What did I do?"

"What did you do last night?"

Harry's stomach plunged. "I already told Ms. Black that I wouldn't be seeing Draco again. What more does she want?" Harry asked helplessly.

"What?" Blaise asked in confusion.

Harry sighed painfully. "Look, just – just tell Draco that – I'm sorry I didn't let him say goodbye again," Harry said. "I – I'm leaving tomorrow. It's been a pleasure knowing you, Blaise. Tell Draco that I will always –" Harry caught himself. "– that I'm not angry with him. I just don't – I don't want him or his mother to get hurt. Okay?"

"Y – you're leaving?" Blaise stammered.

"Traveling…" Harry said vaguely. "Goodbye," he murmured, quickly shutting the door before tears could escape in front of Blaise.

-x-

"You need to wake the fuck up and tell me what the hell is happening!"

Draco groaned as his eyes fluttered open. "Shut up," he mumbled, turning away from Blaise.

"No! What happened?" Blaise asked urgently.

"I don't want to talk about it," Draco said, trying to forget.

"No one wants to bloody talk about it! How the hell do I help you if you don't want to talk about it?" Blaise asked in disbelief.

"I don't need helping," Draco muttered, covering his ears with his hands. "Leave me alone."

"Narcissa is being Narcissa, Harry left, and you're being a prick!"

Draco's heart stalled for a second. "Left?" he asked quietly. "H – he left?"

Blaise swallowed nervously when he heard the tremor in Draco's voice. "He said he's sorry," Blaise mumbled.

"What?"

"He said he's sorry he didn't let you say goodbye."

"Oh…" Draco had no more tears for Harry. Harry was gone.

"Draco," Blaise said, rolling Draco over so they were face-to-face. "Please…"

"It doesn't matter anymore," Draco said blankly.

"He's not angry with you," Blaise said slowly.

Draco's stoic mask broke slightly. "He's not – angry?"

"He said he's not angry with you. He doesn't want you to get hurt. He said he's sorry."

"Wh – why is _he_ sorry?" Draco stammered.

Blaise sighed in defeat. "For god's – he _loves_ you," Blaise said. Blaise watched Draco's mask crumble before his eyes. Draco shrunk away, his eyes squeezed shut and his body curling into itself. A sharp intake of breath was the first indication Blaise got that Narcissa had been listening at the door. He looked up at Narcissa's drawn face. Blaise frowned as recognition flared. "You found out… That's what this is about, isn't it?" he asked.

"He doesn't love Draco," Narcissa said, her voice less sure than her words.

"The man was devastated!" Blaise said incredulously. "He was _crying_, for heaven's sakes! Of course he loves Draco! He left because he didn't want you or Draco to get hurt!" Blaise's words rang through the bedroom.

"_I don't want anyone else to get hurt, alright?"_

Draco sat up, throwing his arms out wildly to connect with Blaise. "I have to find him. I need to – I have to go," he said rapidly. "He doesn't – please, I need to find him."

"He's gone, Draco," Blaise said gently.

"No, no, no. He's – I didn't say goodbye. Please, I didn't say goodbye," Draco sobbed dryly.

"He knows you wanted to."

"That's not enough. I need him. Please, Blaise. He's alone. Where is he? We have to find him," Draco rambled as he cried.

"I don't know where he is… I don't know, Draco."

"Oh god," Draco moaned, trying to stave off his nausea. "He said he wouldn't leave me. He said he wouldn't leave." The migraine bloomed into Draco's head again, causing him to cry out and fall back onto his pillows. He wrapped his arms around his head and brought his knees up to his chest as he wept without tears. Harry was gone again.

-x-


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I am not J.K. Rowling. This story is merely my way of saluting her. I do not own any of these characters; I just manipulate their thoughts.

**Summary**: Harlequin, meet Harry. Set in the late 1870's, this is a story about a lighthouse keeper who is content with the solitary life he leads until a shipwreck washes ashore a remarkable young man. As the keeper cares for the young man, his will to start living again rejuvenates, sprouting from admiration to adoration to love.

Alternate Universe. Non-Magic. Slash. Harry/Draco.

**A/N:** Holy hell! Sorry! So for all those of you who have become thoroughly depressed after that last chapter, I suggest you read **Snap's secret** by **zomgtwilightttt**. It will totally be worth your tears.

I know, the last chapter and this one are short. They used to be one chapter, but I broke them up to have them flow better. Don't worry, I'll have one more chapter for you guys in the coming week.

* * *

"He will come back," Blaise said.

Draco flinched at the words. "I don't want to talk about it," he muttered.

"You're acting like you think he won't come back. I just want you to know that he's coming back."

"It doesn't matter."

"Obviously it does."

"Just – leave it."

"He came back last time, didn't he?"

Draco's expression turned to pain. "He didn't… I found him," he said, his voice breaking.

"You will find him again."

"He doesn't want to come back, Blaise, why don't you understand?"

"Why doesn't he want to come back?"

Draco wrapped his arms around himself, as though he was trying to hold himself in place. "Because that's who he is. He thinks he's hurt me and so he won't come back."

"No, Draco. He loves you, so he will come back."

* * *

His mother pulled Draco out of his confusing dream. He awoke slowly, willing his mind to clear and sharpen. "Hmm?" he asked, feeling the air in front of him.

"It's me."

"Oh," Draco said, pulling his hand back.

Narcissa gently pried the book out of Draco's hands and sat on the sofa with him. "You're still reading the same book?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Charles Dickens."

"Yes."

Narcissa was pained by Draco's curt replies. She was also thankful that her son couldn't see how hurt she was. "I – Draco, I –"

"It's alright, Mother."

"No, it isn't," Narcissa said.

"What is done is done, right?"

"I hope not…" Narcissa mumbled, running her fingers down the raised dots on the pages of the book.

"Did you need something, Mother?"

Narcissa shut her eyes to keep her tears from falling. "Yes," she breathed.

"What?"

"Tell me about him."

Draco's head snapped to his mother. "Wh – what?" he stammered.

"Tell me about him. Tell me why you are in love with him."

"You can't be serious," Draco said incredulously.

"I am. I want to know."

Draco gaped at Narcissa. "What makes you think you have the right?" he asked softly.

Narcissa pressed her fingers to her lips as she stifled a moan. The tears insisted on falling. "I – I didn't – I have no right," she said, her words choking her. "I'm sorry, Draco," she whispered hoarsely, getting up quickly. The book fell with a resounding thud. Draco's heart ached at his mother's sadness. He heard her unsteady steps moving away from him.

"The book…" he said. The footsteps stopped. "It is his favorite."

Narcissa hoped against hope. She ventured closer.

"He said the book is real to him. It's his favorite."

Narcissa was silent, unwilling to break the moment.

"I don't know if you had ever felt this with Father. Harry makes me feel so – important. He makes me feel loved, Mother. Sometimes it felt like he loved me more than you did. Do you know what that feels like? I didn't until I met him. I don't think Astoria ever loved me… Not like that."

Narcissa sat down next to Draco. Draco reached out to hold her trembling hand.

"He didn't know me. He didn't even know he loved me. It just happened. When he found out who I was, he – he panicked. He was afraid. He didn't want me to be like Father. But that was four years ago. When I met him again… I just knew. And he knew. He wasn't trying to hurt me. He was trying to keep me from getting hurt. That's why he left. Do you understand?"

Draco felt Narcissa's tears fall on his hand and he sighed. "Don't cry, Mother," he said, gently feeling her wet cheeks and wiping the tears away. "If there's anything I've learnt from Harry, it's to forgive," he said, wrapping Narcissa in a warm hug. "I love you."

"Tell me more," Narcissa said, her eyes emptying into Draco's shoulder.

* * *

Scorpius grumbled as he poked his father's arm. "Daddy, you're being sad again," he said grumpily.

Draco shook himself out of his musings, a smile tugging at his lips. "Am I?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I'll stop then."

"Why are you sad?" Scorpius asked, scooting closer to Draco and leaning against him.

Draco shrugged, wondering at his son's perceptivity. "I – I lost something," he said vaguely.

"Go find it."

"I don't know where to look."

"Where did you last see it?"

Draco smiled wryly. "You know what? I have never actually seen it before," he said thoughtfully, pulling his son onto his lap.

Scorpius made a sound of frustration. "How do we find it then?" he asked.

"Maybe we won't."

"But you'll keep being sad."

Draco pondered his son's words in his head. He didn't want to keep being sad. Especially not if Scorpius was privy to his sadness. "Then I'll just have to try _really_ hard at being happy, won't I?"

Scorpius nodded solemnly. "Yes, you do. I'll help. We can start by playing blocks, okay?"

Draco tried to stifle his laughter at his son's obvious manipulation. "Alright, we'll see if your blocks help," he said with a grin.

* * *

"Ah, mon ami, pourquoi es-tu si triste?"

Harry looked up at the silhouette in front of his coffee table. His eyes adjusted to the bright sun as he squinted. The short and petite blond had on a cheerful smile. Her clothes were eclectic at best – flowing black skirt and a pale blue corset with dots of white flowers. "Je ne comprends pas le français," Harry murmured, dropping his gaze.

"Anglais?"

"Oui."

"Hmm…"

Harry's eyebrows shot up when the woman took the seat opposite to him uninvited. He frowned at her in confusion. "Quel est ton nom?" she asked, motioning to the server with a raised hand.

"Harry. Et vous?"

"Luna."

They sat in silence for a while, Harry trying not to get bothered with Luna's dreamy gaze. When the waiter came over, Luna ordered a drink and looked at Harry questioningly. Harry shook his head, indicating to his lukewarm coffee in front of him. Luna tilted her head thoughtfully before rattling off in French to the waiter, who nodded and took off back inside the café. "Vous êtes seul…" Luna said, almost to herself.

"Um…"

"Seul. Er – solitaire? Je ne sais pas… Solitary? Alone?"

Harry shrugged. "Oui."

"Ville de l'amour! Paris! Pourquoi es-tu si triste?"

Harry looked at Luna blankly. She bit her lip as she twirled her blond hair with her fingers.

"Triste… er – déprimé? Ne sois pas triste, 'Arry."

"Je ne comprends pas," Harry said helplessly, wondering what this woman wanted from him.

Luna sighed in frustration. "Tu," she pointed at Harry. "Triste," she pulled the corners of her lips down into a melancholy face. "Pas content," she said, shaking her head at him. She exaggerated her doe eyes and downturned lips, blinking at Harry.

"Sad?"

"Oui!" Luna said, a bright grin on her face. "Sad! You is sad! Pourquoi, pourquoi?" she asked eagerly.

This woman wanted to know why he was sad? Harry gaped at Luna in wonderment. "I don't know," he shrugged. "Je ne sais pas…"

"Avez-vous battre avec votre amant?" Luna asked, a mischievous glint in her pale eyes. "Furieux? Um… angry? Avec amant? Amant, amant, amant… Compange? Femme?" Luna seemed to be wracking her brain. "Je ne sais que. Amour – lo – lover! Angry of lover! Oui?"

Harry snorted at Luna's triumphant grin. "Angry with my lover…" he repeated. "I – non. Non," he said softly.

"Oh," Luna slumped back. "Lover angry?"

Harry smiled wryly. "J'espère que non," he said. He hoped Blaise had given Draco his message. "I hope not…"

"Mélancolie…" she murmured as the server brought out two cups of espresso. She pushed one towards Harry, nodding at him to drink it. Harry took a tentative sip, feeling his taste buds jolting at the strong flavor. "Good?" Luna asked.

"Oui," Harry replied, letting the coffee wake him up.

"You – you désir… you desire lover ici? À Paris?"

Harry shrugged again, unsure. Draco was better off without him. So what did it matter if he was here with Harry or not.

"Eperdument amoureux," Luna said, shaking her head at Harry knowingly. "If you are – s – sad in Paris," she said slowly, trying to voice her thoughts in the foreign language. "She is – mo – more sad? No?"

Harry froze with the cup halfway up. Luna noticed Harry's inaction and realized she was getting through to him. So she continued. "Paris! Ville de l'amour! Um… Cité de love! You are sad in Paris. Non on est triste à Paris! Er – you are one man sad in Paris. Non… Only man? You are only man sad in Paris. She is more sad, no?"

"N – no. He – he'll get over it," Harry mumbled, his heart faltering. Would Draco be hurt because of Harry leaving?

Luna shook her head apologetically. "Je ne comprends pas. She is more sad. Vous devez rentrer à la maison You – hmm… she is more sad. You go maison. She is – que… happy? Oui. You maison, she is happy. You are happy," Luna said, a reassuring smile on her lips.

"Maison?"

"Oui, maison. Home. With lover. Go home. Be happy."

* * *

A sharp knock on the door echoed through the almost empty house. Draco sighed, pursing his lips and glancing at Scorpius. "Don't you dare," he said. Scorpius was the picture of innocence as he blinked at Draco with the large doe eyes. Draco narrowed his eyes and tried to stop his smile from leeching out. He grabbed the bowl of batter from Scorpius' hands. Scorpius pouted and folded his arms in retort. "I'm taking it with me," Draco said, wiping the flour off of his hands and walking out of the kitchen.

"Not fair," he heard Scorpius grumble lowly. Draco allowed himself a slight smile. Another knock sounded. Draco hurried to the door and pulled it open. "Hello," he said cordially.

"I – um… Hello."

Draco blinked at the hesitant words. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"N – no, I – er…"

Scorpius peeked around Draco's legs. "Hey! I know you!" he said, a small grin growing on his face. "It's Harry!"

The bowl slipped out of Draco's fingers and clattered to the floor. "What?" he breathed.

Harry was frozen on the spot with fright. He knew the possibility of the door slamming shut in his face was enormous, but he also knew that if he didn't see Draco… That if he didn't see Draco, he would die of sorrow. So he found himself at Draco's doorstep mere months later. He felt Draco's gaze boring into him. "You can see…"

"Scorpius, go to your room," Draco said, his eyes still on Harry. Scorpius seemed to think about arguing, but his father looked like he was in no mood for it. So the boy stomped out of the foyer. Draco took in all of Harry – the strong stature, untidy mop of black hair, tanned skin, unsure emerald eyes, soft cheekbones and uneven lips. "Harry… You left…" Draco said faintly, his eyes running up and down.

"I – I'm… I'm sorry."

"You weren't supposed to leave."

"I – you – and your mother. I didn't –"

"Did you leave because you wanted to or because _she_ wanted you to?"

Harry winced at the words and at the tone. He shouldn't have come. "I'm sorry," he murmured, diverting his eyes. "I shouldn't have come…" he said, turning to go.

"You're leaving again?"

Harry's jaw clenched at Draco's question. "I just wanted to see if you were doing well," Harry said, his back turned to Draco.

"For your peace of mind?"

Harry stiffened with awareness. "Yes," he said curtly as he mentally berated himself for losing control over his emotions.

"Why are you leaving?"

Harry cocked his head to the side. "Y – you want me to," he stammered.

"Do you want to?"

Harry turned around to look at Draco again. "Do I want to?" he echoed after Draco.

"Do you want to leave or are you doing it for me?"

"I – Draco, I said I was sorry," Harry said helplessly.

"Do you want to leave?"

Harry frowned. "No, of course not!" he said in exasperation. "But y –"

"So don't…"

"Wh – what?"

"Don't go."

"But you hate me!" Harry exclaimed, trying to reason with Draco.

"Only as much as you hate me…"

Harry sighed in frustration. "I don't hate – oh…" he trailed off. "Oh."

"Don't go…" Draco's heart broke when he realized how hopelessly lost Harry was. When Draco was blind Harry had been his lighthouse, helping him get through the initial shock and guiding him back home. But now Harry seemed as lost as Draco had been all those years ago. "Please, Harry. If you don't want to leave, don't," Draco said softly.

"I don't want you to get hurt," Harry said, almost inaudibly.

"Not being with you hurts…"

Harry struggled to keep his emotions at bay. "Your mother hates me," he said.

"I don't care."

Harry blanched at Draco's frank comment. "She will hate you. I don't – I don't want to do that," Harry stammered.

"Does it matter what she thinks?"

Harry brushed back his hair in irritation. "She's your family, Draco. Of course it matters. She loves you."

"And you love me."

"I can't do anything about that. Don't you understand? We can't – we can't be together. It's not that simple!"

"Make it simple."

"Look," Harry said fiercely. "This is not some bloody fairytale or a dream. You need to wake and face the reality of the situation. You are a man, I am a man, and nothing can happen between us."

"No, _you_ don't understand," Draco said with anger that easily rivaled Harry's. "You're still trapped in your nightmare and you're afraid to wake up from it and find out that it wasn't a nightmare after all."

"What do you want from me?"

"I want you."

"You can't –"

"I can," Draco growled, sweeping Harry in his arms and kissing him with longing and passion. For a terrible moment, Draco thought Harry was going to push him away. But the moment passed in a flash. Harry pushed against Draco, his arms wrapping around Draco's neck as he moaned into Draco's demanding mouth. "Don't leave."

Harry's mind reeled back to the first day he had met Draco. The day Draco was terrified of being alone in his personal darkness. The day Draco had reached out to Harry. The day Harry had let Draco know that he wasn't leaving. "I'm not leaving."

Draco's lips softened as he heard Harry's firm words. Their passionate kisses slowed to chaste pecks. Both men pulled away at the same time, gazing at each other. "You lied," Draco murmured.

"About what?"

"You said my smile was better… But yours is – breathtaking…"

Harry felt a furious blush growing on his cheeks and he hid his face against Draco's chest.

"Mother doesn't hate you, Harry." Harry would have pulled away had Draco not been holding onto him with a death grip. "She doesn't hate you. She was just – she understands now. She does. You don't hate her, do you?"

"I – n – no…"

"Why?" Draco asked mutedly.

"Huh?"

"Why don't you hate her?"

"She – she's your mother. If you love her, how could I hate her?"

Draco groaned at Harry's explanation, pulling him up for another hungry kiss. Harry was dazed beyond belief when Draco finally broke, their lips swollen and their breaths warm. "You're so perfect, Harry… And god, you're so handsome."

"Draco, stop," Harry murmured, burning up at Draco's compliments.

"No. I'll make sure you know for the rest of our lives."

"Rest of our lives…"

"Because now you're home and I'm never letting you go."

"Home?"

"With you," Draco said.

"You are happy?"

"Happier than I have ever been."

"I love you so much, Draco."

"I love you too, Harry."

* * *

**A/N**: So... Yeah. I'm terribly sorry for the French. :p Here's a translation!

"_Ah, my friend, why are you so sad?_"

Harry looked up at the silhouette in front of his coffee table. His eyes adjusted to the bright sun as he squinted. The short and petite blond had on a cheerful smile. Her clothes were eclectic at best – flowing black skirt and a pale blue corset with dots of white flowers. "_I don't understand French_," Harry murmured, dropping his gaze.

"_English_?"

"_Yes_."

"Hmm…"

Harry's eyebrows shot up when the woman took the seat opposite to him uninvited. He frowned at her in confusion. "_What is your name_?" she asked, motioning to the server with a raised hand.

"Harry. _And yours_?"

"Luna."

They sat in silence for a while, Harry trying not to get bothered with Luna's dreamy gaze. When the waiter came over, Luna ordered a drink and looked at Harry questioningly. Harry shook his head, indicating to his lukewarm coffee in front of him. Luna tilted her head thoughtfully before rattling off in French to the waiter, who nodded and took off back inside the café. "_You are so lonely,_" Luna said, almost to herself.

"Um…"

"_Alone_. Er – _solitary_? _I don't know_… Solitary? Alone?"

Harry shrugged. "_Yes._"

"_City of love_! Paris! _Why are you so sad_?"

Harry looked at Luna blankly. She bit her lip as she twirled her blond hair with her fingers.

"_Sad_… er – _depressed_? _Don't be sad_, 'Arry."

"_I don't understand_," Harry said helplessly, wondering what this woman wanted from him.

Luna sighed in frustration. "_You_," she pointed at Harry. "_Sad_," she pulled the corners of her lips down into a melancholy face. "_Not happy_," she said, shaking her head at him. She exaggerated her doe eyes and downturned lips, blinking at Harry.

"Sad?"

"_Yes_!" Luna said, a bright grin on her face. "Sad! You is sad! _Why, why_?" she asked eagerly.

This woman wanted to know why he was sad? Harry gaped at Luna in wonderment. "I don't know," he shrugged. "_I don't know_…"

"_Did you fight with your lover_?" Luna asked, a mischievous glint in her pale eyes. "_Furious_? Um… angry? _With lover_? _Lover, lover, lover_… _Companion_? _Wife_?" Luna seemed to be wracking her brain. "_I don't know what._ _Love _– lo – lover! Angry of lover! _Yes_?"

Harry snorted at Luna's triumphant grin. "Angry with my lover…" he repeated. "I – _No_. _No_," he said softly.

"Oh," Luna slumped back. "Lover angry?"

Harry smiled wryly. "_I hope not_," he said. He hoped Blaise had given Draco his message. "I hope not…"

"_Melancholy_…" she murmured as the server brought out two cups of espresso. She pushed one towards Harry, nodding at him to drink it. Harry took a tentative sip, feeling his taste buds jolting at the strong flavor. "Good?" Luna asked.

"_Yes_," Harry replied, letting the coffee wake him up.

"You – you _desire_… you desire lover _here_? _In_ Paris?"

Harry shrugged again, unsure. Draco was better off without him. So what did it matter if he was here with Harry or not.

"_Hopelessly in love_," Luna said, shaking her head at Harry knowingly. "If you are – s – sad in Paris," she said slowly, trying to voice her thoughts in the foreign language. "She is – mo – more sad? No?"

Harry froze with the cup halfway up. Luna noticed Harry's inaction and realized she was getting through to him. So she continued. "Paris! _City of love_! Um… _City of_ love! You are sad in Paris. _No one is sad in Paris_! Er – you are one man sad in Paris. _No_… Only man? You are only man sad in Paris. She is more sad, no?"

"N – no. He – he'll get over it," Harry mumbled, his heart faltering. Would Draco be hurt because of Harry leaving?

Luna shook her head apologetically. "_I don't understand_. She is more sad. _You must go home_. You – hmm… she is more sad. You go _home_. She is – _what_… happy? _Yes_. You _home_, she is happy. You are happy," Luna said, a reassuring smile on her lips.

"_Home_?"

"_Yes, home_. Home. With lover. Go home. Be happy."


	6. Chapter 6

"You can see now?" Harry asked, breathing in Draco's faint cologne.

Draco shook his head, quelling his heart. "Not always," he murmured. "Comes and goes. I'm so glad you came today. I'm so glad you came right now." He pulled away from Harry and committed all the features to memory. "Now I know what you look like. Now I know you won't leave."

Harry nodded, raising his hand to touch Draco's chin. "Thank you for being so… understanding," he said.

Draco smiled and hugged Harry again. "Thank you for coming back," he replied.

"Draco," Narcissa's hesitant voice sounded from behind him.

Harry quickly untangled himself from Draco's arms and moved away, an all too familiar sense of despair coursing through him. Draco reached out and clutched his hand, pulling him closer. "Harry's back."

Narcissa nodded mutely, staring at Harry. "Hello," she said after a moment's pause.

"Hello."

She flicked her eyes at Draco, then back at Harry. "I'm glad you are back," she said, gauging Harry's expression.

Harry's brows shot up as he looked at Narcissa in surprise. "You are?" he asked, glancing at Draco for support.

"I never apologized for what happened. I'm sorry," she said.

"Oh…"

Draco smiled at his mother. "He forgives you, Mother."

Harry was speechless. To see such a proud lady apologize was unheard of. He had never thought it possible. Yet here was Narcissa, apologizing to him - a nobody. "Shouldn't I be the one apologizing?" Harry asked weakly.

Draco laughed. "I don't want to hear another apology out of you. Ever. I am sick of your apologies. Understand?"

Harry smiled wanly. "Yes," he answered.

"Won't you come in?" Narcissa asked, gesturing to the drawing room.

Harry nodded, his gaze slipping up to the railings of the second floor. Scorpius was crouching between them, peering down eagerly. Harry waved and smiled. The boy disappeared behind the wall. Draco laughed. "You can come down, Scorpius," he said. Scorpius stood up, blushing. "Guess the batter's ruined, huh?" Draco said, looking down at the mess he had made on the floor. "We'll make that cake later, okay?"

"Okay," Scorpius nodded.

"Oh, we can make it now, if you'd like," Harry said, bending down to pick up the fallen bowl.

"You know how to bake one?"

"A burnt one, sure," Harry said, shrugging with a sheepish smile.

"Grandma helps," Scorpius said, pulling Narcissa towards the kitchen. "Let's go. I'll lick the bowl."

"Yes. My helpful licker," Draco chuckled, closing the door and placing a hand on Harry's back to make him follow Narcissa and her grandson.

* * *

"Why do you think we are in love?" Draco asked, looking up from his scotch.

"Why?" Harry echoed.

"Yes. Why? You are a man. I am a man. Are you attracted to me, Harry?" he asked. Harry's mouth fell open as he blushed. He snapped it shut, gulping. Draco's eyes widened. "You are _that_ attracted to me?" he asked in awe.

"Now you're tormenting me," Harry muttered.

"I just – I just thought that you… I mean, I'm not a woman…"

"I noticed."

"And I don't have any… womanly features."

"Again, noted."

"So…"

Harry shrugged. "You're a very attractive man," he murmured.

Draco got up from his seat and sat beside Harry on the chaise. Harry shifted away, uncomfortable after the conversation. Draco moved closer. Harry moved away. Draco made a noise of frustration, stopping Harry. "You say you're attracted, then you push away. I don't understand," Draco said, his hand on Harry's arm.

"I don't understand either," Harry said, flicking his sharp green eyes at Draco.

Draco searched Harry's expression. "It's just… I was never sure if you were just – emotionally in love with me. Which is fine. I had never thought of physical love," he said pensively.

"We don't have to think about physical love," Harry said, blushing even darker.

Draco held the gaze for a moment before laughing. "No… That's not… I mean, _now_ I'm thinking about it. Before I couldn't because I didn't – I didn't know what you looked like," he corrected.

Harry frowned in confusion. "And now…"

"And now…" They stared at each other, silent. Harry was the first to look away, thoroughly embarrassed. This was the closest he had been with anyone. This was new. He wasn't like Draco. He wasn't used to this. Draco smiled at Harry's downcast profile before taking a sip from his drink. "When?" he asked.

Harry closed his eyes. "Can we not – can we talk about something else?"

"No. When?"

"Please?"

"No. Tell me when."

Harry sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know. In the lighthouse, you – sometime then."

"Oh? You sounded as though you were about to say more," Draco smirked.

"I wasn't."

"Come on, tell me," Draco urged.

Harry looked utterly miserable now. "Why?" he asked.

"Because I want to see if I remember," Draco said.

"Hmph…" Harry murmured glumly. "I – I don't really remember a specific instance. It's just… when you finished your wash and needed help with your shirt."

Draco's smile widened. "And…"

"Please don't make me talk about this," Harry pleaded.

"And?"

"And…" Harry said. He turned to Draco, recalling that day. "I wanted to do this," he whispered, running his hand down Draco's chest. Draco looked down as Harry's fingers lingered on his button near his stomach. "And this." Harry leaned forward and captured Draco's lips in his. "And this." Harry's other hand tangled into Draco's hair. "Your hair was wet…" Harry's fingers slipped through the shirt and onto Draco's skin. "You are so strong, Draco. I have so much respect for you," Harry murmured. Draco shivered as Harry's fingers undid the button, letting his hand through. Harry splayed it over Draco's taut stomach, drawing warmth from it. "I was never good with women," Harry confessed. "I never thought I would find you."

"Mph, Harry, stop," Draco said, pulling away.

Harry slipped his hand out, looking horrified at his loss of control. He clenched his hand into a fist and dropped it on his knee. "I'm sorry," he breathed. "I'm so sorry. I didn't… sorry."

"What did I tell you about apologies?" Draco asked tiredly. "It's not that… My head."

"Oh," Harry said, frowning. Then he noticed Draco fumbling with his glass. "Oh!" Harry exclaimed, taking the glass from Draco's hand. "You can't…"

Draco let out a forceful breath of air, elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. "It's so frustrating," he said, his words muffled.

"Hey," Harry said softly, making Draco turn to him. He saw the blank eyes blinking at him. "It's fine. It's life, isn't it?" he asked.

Draco smiled warily, nodding. "I guess. Life."

"What's it like?" Harry asked.

Draco felt for Harry, running his hand down Harry's arm until he found the hand. He clutched it comfortingly. "It's terrifying," he said, closing his eyes. "Because no matter what I do, it's black." Harry squeezed Draco's hand. "So I imagine what it's like to see. I imagine what I would be surrounded by. I imagine the colors."

Harry touched Draco's cheek lightly. "Imagine this?" he asked. Draco leaned into Harry's touch, nodding. Harry glided his fingers towards Draco's lips. "Imagine this?" Draco smiled, nodding. Harry moved in, stopping inches from Draco. "Imagine me?"

"You are all I can imagine," Draco whispered, leaning the rest of the way to kiss Harry. Harry closed his eyes, now as blind as Draco. He felt Draco's hand against his cheek and the other against the nape of his neck. He felt Draco's breath against his lashes. He felt Draco's warmth against his lips. And he felt Draco's forceful push, causing him to fall onto the chaise.

"What –" Harry started asking before Draco's lips sought his again. This time Harry felt Draco's hands against his side. He felt Draco's harsh breathing against his cheek. He felt Draco's tongue against his lips, causing his lips to part open on their own accord. He felt Draco's fingers making deft work of his buttons. "Whoa, wait," he panted.

"Hmm?" Draco asked, his attention diverted by what he was doing to Harry's waistcoat.

"What – what are you doing?"

"I want to touch you. Feel what a man feels like," Draco said.

Harry swallowed, wrapping fingers around Draco's wrists. "You already know what a man feels like. You're a man…"

"What another man feels like. What _you_ feel like," Draco corrected.

"Here?" Harry asked helplessly.

Now Draco paused. "Right. Want to move to the bedroom?" he asked.

Harry laughed incredulously. "No, Draco. I don't!" he said.

"Oh."

Harry gawked at the blind man. "Wait, you – you want to continue this?" he asked.

"Quite obviously," Draco muttered, sitting up sullenly. "But you don't. Is it because I can't see?"

Harry frowned at the question. "I – um… no, that's not. It's just that I've – well, I didn't think you – I've never…"

Draco's cloudy face cleared. "You've never?" he asked, suddenly turning into an eighteen-year-old boy. "You've _never_?" he smirked.

Harry hid his face in his hands. "Please, stop," he groaned. "Besides, it's not like… I mean, we can't do anything."

"And why not?" Draco asked.

"What? _How_? _How_ do we do anything?" Harry asked.

Draco laughed happily, leaning down again to press kisses on Harry's cheeks. "You don't know how?" he asked.

"It's – it's so… vulgar. Crude. Painful."

"You've read sodomy while I've read romance, Harry…"

Harry gaped when he realized the path this conversation was heading. "You want to…"

"Yes, I do."

"Oh."

"Come with me?" Draco asked, getting off of Harry and holding out his hand.

Harry breathed in forcefully, staring at Draco's hand. Was this a test? He pressed his palm against Draco's, sitting up. "Are you sure?" Harry asked.

"Are _you_?" Draco asked in turn. "Upstairs, first door on the right." His fingers found the spaces between Harry's fingers, gripping him tight. Harry led the way, dazed. This was real. This was too real. He wasn't ready for this. He didn't know what to do. He needed to calm down. He whipped around, kissing Draco frantically. Draco smiled, responding similarly. They stumbled up the stairs, hands searching for a comfortable fit. Harry moaned when he felt the heat moving down. He almost pulled away, appalled. But Draco took that moment to press against Harry. They gasped as their erections brushed against each other. "Oh god, I need you now," Draco moaned in desperation. Harry pulled him up the stairs, dizzy from overwhelming emotions. He opened the door, pulling Draco inside. Draco closed it with his foot, his fingers finishing what they had started. He pulled off Harry's cravat, letting it fall carelessly to the floor.

Harry pulled his shirt off of himself before starting on Draco's. All the while he imagined water dripping down pale skin. He wanted to touch the pale skin. And he couldn't wait. He pressed his lips against Draco's chest, unable to hold off until he had removed Draco's shirt. They fell into bed, Harry on top of Draco as he kissed his way down. Once he reached the last button, he revealed all of Draco. "You are so perfect," Harry whispered in wonder, straddling the man. "How are you so perfect?"

"The flattery works like magic, Harry," Draco said. The moonlight fell across them from the open window. Harry ran reverent fingers down Draco's chest, lean and smooth. Draco shivered against the touch, bringing his own hands up. They landed on Harry's shoulders. Draco's eyes were closed as he felt Harry against him. He had never felt this with his wife. He had never felt this way with anyone. Harry was melting him with the heat. He felt a steady pressure against his palms as Harry bore down. He collapsed his arms, letting Harry in. Their skin pressed against each other, eliciting low groans and whimpers from both. "What's happening to me?"

"I don't know," Harry said breathlessly, an arm snaking under Draco while the other looped around his neck. They lay in silent embrace for many long moments, nearly falling asleep. Draco's breath ghosted on Harry's bare shoulder. Their hearts beat as one, erratic. "Intoxicating," Harry murmured unconsciously.

Draco wrapped his legs around Harry's waist and rolled him over without warning. Harry gasped in surprise as Draco settled over him, sitting up. He caught Draco's dreamy smile against the white light. Draco's hand was splayed on Harry's stomach. Then it trailed down. Harry let out a strangled moan, biting his lip to keep quiet. "Hush," Draco chuckled softly. "Don't want to wake anybody up, do we?"

"Don't," Harry begged.

Draco's fingers found the top of Harry's trousers. "Take your boots off," he whispered urgently.

"My boots?" Harry squeaked.

"Go on."

Harry tried to toe them off of his heels, whimpering as Draco's fingers started pushing his trousers down. "I can't," he whispered unsteadily.

Draco laughed and Harry wondered how that man made light of such a situation. Draco moved down, pulling the breeches off of Harry. When he reached the boots, he pulled them off easily. Then he returned to finish pulling the trousers down. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" he asked, his hands hastening up to Harry's thighs.

"This is so embarrassing," Harry hissed, gripping Draco's wrists.

"Why?" Draco asked.

Harry closed his eyes. "Please…"

"I'm blind."

Harry opened his eyes and looked at Draco in disbelief. "What?" he asked in shock.

"Harry, I'm blind," Draco deadpanned. Harry's grip slackened. "I should be the one that's embarrassed. You can see _everything_," Draco muttered, sliding his hand up past Harry's hips and resting against Harry's chest again. He toed off his own boots. He grabbed Harry's waist possessively, rolling them over again. Harry held himself above Draco on his elbows, their lips tied. Draco pushed his own trousers down. "You are going to have to lead this," he said.

Harry pulled away. "What?" he stammered.

"I can't see. You are going to have to lead," Draco repeated, his fingers entwining in Harry's hair as he pushed the man down for a long and reassuring kiss. "I love you."

"I – I love you too," Harry said. Draco's hand ran down Harry's side to his arousal. "Oh god," Harry gasped, his cheek against Draco's.

"I lied," Draco chuckled, wrapping his fingers around the warmth. "I'll lead."

"Ah," Harry groaned.

"How often have you done this?" Draco asked.

"Not often enough," Harry said heavily. He hesitantly moved his hand towards Draco's erection, mimicking his actions. He got reactions.

"Mmm," Draco half gasped and half moaned, arching up. Harry froze. Draco's eyes were open and staring at the ceiling. His lips were parted and hot breath washed over both of them. It was erotic. "Don't hold back," Draco said. Harry wondered what that meant. He found out soon enough. He lurched into Draco when the fingers moved forcibly up then down. "Is that good?" Draco asked. Before Harry could answer, Draco moved his hand again. Harry responded with a guttural groan. Draco felt the sound reverberating into his chest. He smiled, pumping Harry confidently. Harry pushed into Draco's hand, his own moving in the same patterns. Draco squirmed, his head thrown to the side. They arched into each other, their lips meeting halfway. Harry felt the fire burning through him, causing him to move towards what he only assumed was insanity. But he didn't want it to stop. He wanted to turn insane if it meant having Draco right here. His fingers were slick now and moving easily. He heard each soft whine Draco made. And he wanted more. He wanted more than whines.

"Say my name?" he asked.

"Harry," Draco groaned, sighing into pleasure. He was being drawn to the edge then pulled away. He never knew where Harry's fingers would be next. It was driving him mad. He pressed his hand to his mouth, stifling his heaving shout. He had never done this except with himself, and that too not without the shame attached to the act. With Harry, this felt surreal. This felt loving. Not a selfish motion that was sinful. It was a satisfying touch that was love. "Harry," Draco cried out, climaxing. Harry felt the seed spilling. He pulled Draco's hand from his mouth and replaced them with his lips. Draco jerked under him, riding the waves while he unconsciously moved his hand. Harry neared completion.

"Look at me," Harry murmured. Draco's eyes opened. "Imagine me."

"Always."

Harry's orgasm pushed him towards insanity, just as he had thought. He bruised Draco with his lips, his heart soaring. It soared so high that it hurt. He felt his muscles shivering against Draco, slicked with sweat. His mind slipped to the kisses under the moon at the beach. He softened his lips, trying to capture that moment again. Draco's hands pulled Harry close. They made their bodies fit, legs tangled and arms against each other's backs. They matched their breathing so that when one inhaled, the other exhaled. Harry felt dizzy again. But it wasn't from fright. It was from insurmountable pleasure. To be in bed with Draco was amazing. "You are brilliant," Harry said, panting slightly.

"So are you. You are wonderful…"

"Can I –"

"Yes, stay the night," Draco finished.

"Thank you," Harry murmured, rolling off of Draco. He pulled the sheets over them and pressed against Draco.

"You are perfect too, Harry," Draco said quietly, his fingers drawing against Harry's back. "And so gentle…"

"You don't mind gentle, do you?" Harry asked.

"I don't mind gentle. I'm sure I won't mind rough," Draco chuckled suggestively.

"Rough."

"That's the sodomy," Draco murmured glibly.

"And gentle is romance," Harry inferred. He blinked at Draco, kissing his jaw. "How are you not appalled?"

"By what we did?"

"By what we are doing even now."

"I'm not appalled because… it felt glorious. How can something so brilliant be appalling?" Draco asked.

"Valid question," Harry said, thinking it over.

"Why? Are you appalled?"

"I am… Strangely enough…" Harry responded. "But – it's not… as you said, it was glorious. Why on Earth would it be appalling if it felt so perfect?"

"Right."

"Right."

Draco turned to Harry, barely hiding his grin. "Right."

"Right," Harry said shakily.

They burst out into stifled laughter as they kissed euphorically. "Fuck them all, I am going to do whatever I want with you, Mr. Potter," Draco said.

"Fuck them all," Harry chuckled.


End file.
